Genius
by Raithe
Summary: This is the story of Shomti, a genius from our world. When he enters the universe of Sly Cooper, everything that could have and should have happened is warped until unrecognizable, simply by his presence. Yaoi between two OCs. COMPLETE!
1. Welcome to the Cooper Gang

This is my first entry, and it's not nearly done yet... but I made it the best I could at the moment. And by the way, so Sucker Punch doesn't sue me out of house and home... **Disclaimer** I really, really, really wish I owned Sly Cooper... but I don't.

Anyway, it's my first entry, and I try to get the grammar and spelling right the first time so it's not a pain later. Sorry if the first chapter isn't all that long; the second one is.

Enjoy

**Welcome to the Gang**

Shomti fiddled with the lock before him. He wasn't really out stealing; he knew that the world did not accept thieves of the kind he admired. But he was doing the next best thing: learning **how** to be a thief of the kind he admired. Stealth, honor, chivalry... all good things the world used to have, it had no longer. "Progress" had taken everything away. Even in the Military, which in the old days still had some honor, was reverted to tactics of "Fire the missile and hope they don't know where we are". Leading a nation was now no longer a matter of loyalty to your people; it was about deceit to keep you in place and give you more power, it was about passing laws to control everything your people did. Thieving was no longer actually stealing stealthily; you hold a gun to someone's head and get them to put the money in a bag. Twenty minutes later, you are traced to your home and locked up for the crime you committed. Assassins, known for being stealthy and untraceable, able to get right up next to you and stab you in the back without you noticing, now could snipe you off at a distance of five miles without knowing who you are or even why you're being killed.

No, there was no more honor left in the world. But still, he could find the few traces that needed distilling from the greed and ill-will of the world. In books, and in games and movies, he found a glimpse into another world, one where a leader lead the people for the people and not for his own gain, one where the military wasn't trying to develop ways of destroying life faster and more painfully, one where thieves were really **thieves**. And Shomti could get there. At thirteen, he read a college-level book on the theory of the fourth dimension in a mathematical sense. At fourteen, he connected the dimensional dots on time and alternate universes and discovered where science met mathematics and made sense. And now, at fifteen, he had found a way to get out of his own world, where those who professed to be his friends discouraged him in his time of need, and into another, one where he'd be better off even without any friends or family.

He smiled and set the lock aside as it popped open. _Yes... I will finally get out of here. My friends think I'm crazy... when I'm in my most serious mood and I need help, and all I ask is for them to deny that they truly hate me... they hate me more... I have no idea where I'm going, but it can't be worse than here... A step below the bottom of the dimensional ladder, a hole beyond the deepest pits of Hell. It feels good to finally be leaving._ He rose and checked his clock. Three in the morning. He should get some sleep... tomorrow, after putting up with one more day at school, he'd be gone.

"This'll be one fun day..." He said, dropping back on his pillow and instantly falling asleep, the padlock next to his bed. And as he lay there, one hand dropped off the side of his bed, his arm hanging down, something broke in the dimensional barrier and a figure appeared by the side of his bed.

"You see... I told you he would figure it out eventually." Another figure appeared beside the first.

"Hm... indeed. He will be arriving soon, I take it?" The first smiled, revealing her white teeth.

"Tomorrow afternoon. We should make ready for his arrival. We wouldn't want him to feel unwelcome, now would we, Arpeggio?" Neyla laughed lightly and disappeared, followed by Arpeggio.

Shomti woke the next day feeling strangely bold. He decided that since it was his last day in this universe... why not make a little trouble before going? Give people something to remember... He got up out of his bed fully clothed and bumped into one of his imaginary friends given partial embodiment through his excessive imagination. It was Sly Cooper, or supposed to be. At the moment, he was obsessed with Sly's games. He was going to have bought the first Sly game, well, first, but he accidentally grabbed the second one. It was a good thing too, because when he did get the prequel to his beloved "Sly 2: Band of Thieves", he refused to play it, it sucked so bad compared to the second game. He regretted that he still didn't have the money to get the third, seeing as that was last year, but figured he would forget about it eventually. He was going to an alternate universe, and given the fact that there were infinite possibilities of evolution of new realities, it was even possible—no, probable—that one of them was in fact the world of Sly Cooper and his gang.

"_Hey, Sly, how are you doing this fine morning?_" He said, walking through the raccoon. He didn't bother imagining a response; his brain was too tired at the moment. His mother walked out of the kitchen; she wasn't really a **bad** mother, it's just that she was too... Well, too religious. She said stealing was against the Ten Commandments. She also forced Shomti to go to church every day... no, wait. That was his dad. Speak of the Devil...

"...And he shall come, and save us all from the evil trappings of Satan and his thieves." _Oh, no... in another preachy mood... Well, I won't mess with him... Actually, on second thought..._

"Hey, Dad, you do realize not all thieves are Satan-worshipers, right?"

"True, but all Satan-worshipers are thieves." _Ugh... he's giving me a bad name and doesn't even know it..._

"No, that's just prejudiced thinking originating in a closed mind that was caused by a thorough brainwashing of the most evil of all religions." His dad glared at him. "Christianity is akin to being a Nazi, after all. You're persecuting because of your beliefs all that are not of a specific religion. And Hitler was a Christian. Also, where Jews were what Hitler hated most, Christians specifically hate with a deep, burning passion homosexuals—"

"SHUT UP!" Shomti hadn't heard his father trying to get him to stop his discriminating rant. He nearly burst out laughing at the reddened face on his dad.

"Well, I'm gonna ride my tricycle to school today... Just in case you were going to take me to the Church for an emergency exorcism." He said and walked outside to his recumbent low-rider tricycle. About a year and a half ago, he had an accident on his bike going down a hill that had a very, very, very steep grade. He had gone out of control, he tipped over on his bike and very well could have been crushed by a passing car. The greatest extra-dimensional geometrist, could have been destroyed in a bike spill. Since then, he'd had a illogical fear of riding a bike. So, about six months later at Christmas, he received a recumbent tricycle. Very useful for getting around. He was still navigationally challenged to the point where he simply had to make two left turns to get home and ended up miles past where he was supposed to be. Luckily, he'd had his cell phone. About one and three quarters years ago that was, the last day of eighth grade. But, my point is, he could get around on the thing.

Read that again, it'll make sense.

Once he had endured about thirty minutes of pointing and concealed chuckling, he pulled into the school's parking lot. He locked up his trike, knowing that if it weren't stolen, it would be vandalized or something. As long as he could ride it, and even if he couldn't, there wasn't a problem. He checked that the lock was locked, made sure he had the key, and went into class, having unhooked his backpack from the back of the trike and put it on. He nodded happily at his "friends" Austin and Blake as he waited outside the classroom. They pretended to be excluding him on their own, but eventually they went over and asked him was wrong with him. He smiled broadly and looked down at them.

"I'm going home." He said it in such a wistful voice that they thought he was suicidal or something and sort of backed off. A few girls were talking behind his back, but what did it matter? He had told the truth, to an extent. Home is where your heart is, anyway. During class, he raised his hand and answered all the questions smiling like a madman. Afterward, his teacher held him back and asked him something.

"Is... something wrong? I mean, you're normally quietly intelligent, never really raising your hand unless nobody else gets what in Hell we're doing." Shomti smiled broadly. "And you never smile."

"I'm going home after school." He said. The teacher sort of looked at him funny.

"Of course you are... What's the matter with you? You've never been like this—" Shomti stopped her there.

"Correction. I've been like this the whole time. The whole of the human race was too arrogant to see it themselves, so I'm showing it to them before I leave. They deserve to see a real genius as he really is... Well, to a point. And now..." The bell rang. "You have made me late to class. Thank you." He said genuinely and stepped under the arm blocking the doorway, making his way to his English class. After acting completely different in English class; that is, after acting somewhat lightly inebriated, it was time for his "Nutrition break" where nobody actually ate anything and just talked. He pulled a bag of jerky out of his lunch and munched on a piece as he waited for Ryan to arrive. Sure enough, he emerged from his Advanced Math class and met Shomti and Austin to talk with Austin and routinely ignore and discourage Shomti.

"Good morning Ryan!" He said brightly. When Ryan walked past him straight to Austin muttering a gruff "Hello, Stalker." They immediately began talking about a game both of them had beaten and Shomti had never even heard of. And when he tried to join them by asking what the Hell they were talking about, they started talking about him.

"What is with this kid, Ryan?" Ryan shrugged.

"Do you think he's gay or something, following us around all the time? Go on Stalker, shoo! Hang out with your imaginary friends!" Shomti growled lowly, sounding sort of like a cross between a snore and an angry dog. Hey, humans had lost the ability to growl if they ever had one. It was hard work to get it back completely. Shomti was probably the best so far. The growl at least freaked out his friends, to an extent.

"Hey Stalker, see the food? Do you want the food? Well, go fetch, you stupid mongrel!" Austin said, ripping the bag of beef jerky out of Shomti's hands. Before he could throw it though, the world seemed to slow down. Shomti grabbed Austin's wrists and pulled the shorter kid towards him, at the same time raising his knee with tremendous force and knocked Austin flat on his back. In under a second Shomti had stepped on his chest and picked up his jerky from the floor.

"Austin, here's another lesson to you: Never, EVER come between a thief and his jerky, you stupid mongrel." He said, pressing down on Austin's chest before getting off and helping him up. For helping him up and being around when Austin was back on his feet, he got a punch, square in the jaw. He didn't even move his head; he knew from experience the jaw was one of the hardest bones in the body. Austin was left with a broken knuckle and several bruised ones. Shomti was unfazed. "Now that that's taken care of... it's time for class again." To Ryan, he whispered something.

"_Man_ that felt good. Don't mess with a thief... especially one you know has been trained in the martial arts." He chuckled and left the astounded Ryan by the cursing Austin. _Glad I'm leaving... I can beat Austin, but I'd have to have an advantage to win against Ryan._ When he reached his class, the teacher was frowning at him and Austin, somehow, was there with a splint on his finger.

"Austin tells me that you first knocked him on the ground and then broke his finger... all because he tried to take your food?" Shomti raised a finger.

"Incorrect. Without reason, he tried to get me to "stop stalking" him, even though I just walked up and inquired as to what they were discussing. When he tried to take my beef jerky and throw it to get rid of me, I simply followed instinct and stopped him. He broke his own finger." The teacher looked a bit confused. "He hit me in the face, broke his finger on my jaw, and came whining to you about it. In layman's terms."

"In that case, Austin has a detention. You have an OSS of three days, starting tomorrow." Shomti clapped his hands.

"Excellent, since I won't be on this plane of existence tomorrow! Or even tonight. Austin hits me, breaks his finger, and gets a detention, whereas I have no consequences... Sounds fair." The teacher looked even more confused now.

"Excuse me, did you just say you were going to kill yourself?"

"No. I said I was going to leave this plane of existence. Simple, really. I could explain it to you, but it might take me the two years it took me to learn it. Thanks for the fun of my last day on Earth!" He said, vigorously shaking Austin's hand (the one with a broken finger) and waving goodbye to the teacher and turning to walk away.

"Excuse me...?" Shomti turned around again and walked into the classroom. "That's better."

At the end of the day, he smiled at all the people who were irritated and who thought they were going to see him again tomorrow. _Oh, but they've got no idea what I'm going to do... Let's see if this works._ He walked his trike behind a wall and focused himself tightly, tensing every muscle on staying in this dimension. And naturally, the worlds wanted to defy him by the very nature of energy. You pull, it pulls back. So, when he felt them tugging him to a new world, he let go and let them pull him. He disappeared in a flash of light and flew through a void of darkness, the wind knocked out of him as he soared. When he thought it had failed, he fell from about four feet in the air to the floor below him. Groaning, he surveyed his surroundings. He was in a very fancy, very large city, probably the capital of some nation. He pulled the trick again, only now he specified which world he "didn't" want to go to and he let himself be pulled back into it and walked out from behind the wall again, not a lot worse for the wear of being pulled between universes.

"Hey Witchking, what were you doing back there?" Shomti smiled. Witchking, a nickname that had stuck last year, always made him smile. It made other people think he was some evil sorcerer or something, but it didn't matter to him. To him, Witchking was a compliment and a praise of his power. Which, of course, he didn't really have. He was just a genius.

"You know me, Albert, I was just practicing my dark arts to go between parallel worlds. Now then, might I have everyone's attention for a few minutes?" He said; nobody listened to him. He pulled a penknife out of his pocket and held the blade up to his throat. "As I said... Attention, please!" This time, everybody saw him. Some tried to come near him to stop him, but he waved them away as he focused on (not) going to the world of Sly Cooper. "Rescuing me won't be necessary.

"When I moved here, to California, I was convinced I would have no fun here. Well, the beach was nice, but after a while, I got bored of it. The sun is too bright for a thief's eyes. The weather—the lack thereof, I mean—is very depressing. So, if you don't mind, I'm not going to be staying here any longer. I'm going home, everybody! So long!" He made a motion with the knife as if to slit his throat, but instead relaxed his hold on this world and disappeared with a flash of light, to the awe of everyone there.

Upon reaching his destination, he looked around, tossing his knife aside. This was definitely it. He was in a dark room, the one where Sly Cooper arrived to start the first heist to get the Clockwerk parts. It was night out. _Cool... I guess everything is possible if you think it is._ Then he heard a noise from above him and remembered... this was the room where Sly arrived! His eyes darted around for something to hide behind, but it was a bit of a transition from midday to midnight and he couldn't find anything but a pond, which he fell into. Loudly. He fell into it loudly. The raccoon sliding down a rope that Shomti hadn't noticed was startled by the splash and nearly dropped from his precarious perch. He pulled out his binocucom and muttered into it softly while proceeding down the rope as if he hadn't heard the sound.

"Bentley, don't be surprised, but there's an intruder here before us... not a very intelligent one, by the sound of it, or not a very good thief." Shomti cursed under his breath and tried to hide under the surface of the pond. But because Sly was very careful about hiding the binocucom and his voice, Shomti didn't realize he had been detected. When Sly landed, he pulled his binocucom out as he normally did and started talking into it. Due to Shomti's being mostly underwater, including his ears, he couldn't hear what Sly said, but he assumed he was going through the dialog with Bentley concerning the code Bentley wanted to use. When Sly started coming right for him, Shomti ducked under the water silently and hoped that he was right about Sly having not seen him. He wasn't, and found out when he was hit in the head by Sly's cane hard enough to knock a normal person out.

Stressed point: Normal person. Determined as he was to speak with his hero, he stayed conscious, but in pain to the point of cursing loudly.

"Oh, f that hurt... Wait! Wait! Don't hit me again! I just want to talk with you, Sly." Sly stopped with his cane in both hands over his head. "Thank you... very much. That should have knocked me out, I know. I'm very determined to talk to you. Wait, wait one second..." He said, rubbing his head. "You didn't have to use so much force... I'm gonna have a bump on my head..."

"What are you?" Sly asked abruptly. Shomti looked up.

"Well, I call myself Shomti, but my name's been changed—" Sly shook his head, offering a paw to help Shomti up. Shomti took it gratefully, keeping one hand on his head.

"No, what **are **you?" Shomti looked down at himself and then at Sly.

"Well, you know, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." When Sly raised an eyebrow for him to continue, Shomti answered him. "I'm from an alternate universe where even my parents hate me and my thievery. I got here by a certain psychic technique. It involves traveling between dimensions. Quite difficult to figure out on your own. And I'm from a world where if I told my friends I met an anthropomorphic raccoon with thumbs and a highly intelligent sentient mind, they'd lock me up in a nice, white padded room. Of course, they couldn't keep me in it. I'm a born thief, though I, uh... haven't got much practice." Sly looked thoroughly confused, but when Bentley's voice buzzed through the binocucom and he held it up and listened it made more sense to him.

"So... what, are all the people in your world like that? All smooth and fur-less? The closest we get to that are the occasional naked mole rats." Shomti shrugged and looked at himself.

"Nah, some people have a genetic disorder that makes them grow fur all over their bodies... but those are few and far between. So... Where was I?" Sly appeared thoughtful.

"I think you were trying to get to the point where you offered to try and be of service?"

"Yes, thank you. As I was saying... Well, I've come a long way, and I can't go back where I came from. Long story there. It'd be, well, nice of you to let me try and be a help to you in any way. Just let me tag along with you on heists, let me see how it's done, I know I can help somehow!" Sly tapped him on the shoulder.

"It's alright. You don't have to beg. This one ought to be simple anyway. Now then... you ever killed a guard?" Shomti shook his head. Sly scratched his chin in thought.

"Well... have you ever slaughtered an animal?" Shomti shook his head.

"Nothing bigger than my fist... Well, nothing bigger than my fist on purpose."

"Ever... Oh, forget it. The second guard is always easier. Now then, let's move out." He fished out his binocucom and held it up to his face. "Bentley, he's with us, I repeat, he's with us."

"Sly, he may be from Interpol!" Sly sighed.

"If he were, wouldn't he have been knocked out by a firm swing of my cane? I mean, those cops aren't trained to take that kind of punishment." Bentley sighed. "Plus, he's got pretty much nowhere else to go. Whether he's a raving lunatic or telling the truth, the only place where he'd fit in is in an asylum." Shomti frowned. "Look, let him hang around for this heist, then we can let him go, okay Bentley?"

"Fine. But I don't like it, Sly. This one heist." Sly nodded and put the binocucom away. Shomti pulled himself out of the pond.

"Alright, now then... where're we going? Up there, right?" He said, pointing to the walkway with the lever that needed pulling to let Bentley up.

"Well... yes. Any ideas?" Shomti raised an eyebrow.

"Haven't you got one?" Sly smiled and nodded. "Excellent. Up the trampoline onto the bones up there and then to the lever?"

"Correct." Shomti cracked his knuckles, not stopping at the eight most people crack and going on to crack the base of his thumbs and the second joint in all of his fingers. Funny thing, that... he knew cracking your knuckles didn't give you arthritis and sometimes went overboard with cracking them, running out of knuckles and moving on to his vertebrae.

"Shomti, that'll give you arthritis."

"No it won't. Watch." He said and sprinted to the trampoline, launched himself off of it and landed on the bones. He wobbled a bit, then steadied himself and ran along it before jumping off onto the walkway. "You see? No arthritis." Sly sighed, propelled himself off the trampoline and landed on the bone whale/dinosaur thing, running along it more agilely than Shomti, and landed catlike.

"Well... you're a raccoon. And besides, I haven't been thieving very long." He said, pulling the lever sharply. He heard a short "Ow!" and then the elevator came up. When the door opened, Bentley clambered over to the security computer... at least, after making sure Shomti was safe. Checking for weapons, pretending to be able to scan his thought patterns... Eventually, he was forced to declare Shomti as safe and he worked on lifting the barrier so Sly and Shomti could get through. As they ran through, a piece of Shomti's shirt was cut off by a laser that blinked on for a second or so. Neither he nor Sly noticed, and they moved on. When they reached the balcony where Sly had to perform the Rail Walk, he jumped up on the rope and ran across it lightly. Shomti set one foot on it and decided he'd be better off taking his chances with Bentley.

"Sly, I'm just, uh... I'm just gonna stay here and keep Bentley company. Oh, and when you hear "Thunder Flop", stay away from the table, okay?" Shomti said before turning around and dashing back to where Bentley was communicating to Sly with the binocucom. "Hi, Bentley. Need anything?" Bentley shook his head silently as he fiddled with the security computer.

"No, not really... why aren't you with Sly?" Shomti sighed.

"I can't Rail Walk, that's all." Bentley looked up at him, then back to the computer. "What're you doing that for? It's not really necessary anymore..." Bentley nodded.

"I suppose you're right... So, in this "other world" of yours, are you considered a genius?" Shomti laughed out loud.

"No, not by most. In fact, everybody thought I was severely mentally challenged. Heh, but I suppose they're probably wondering where I went now. Hey, Bentley, do you have Rubik's Cubes here?" Bentley nodded and pulled a keychain Cube out of his pocket and tossed it to Shomti.

"Never could get that thing done. And I doubt you can." Shomti smiled.

"Shall I teach you, then?" He said, twisting the sides rapidly. "First, you get a cross on one of the sides. Then you get the corners. It's imperative that you get the cubelets in their proper places; the green-red edge on the side of the green facing the red center and so on. After the corners, you must completely solve the first two layers, then the—" Bentley took the cube back.

"You're still not making any sense. Just... tell me later, okay?" Shomti nodded. Bentley pulled out his binocucom and looked through it. "What...? I don't get it, Sly! The Clockwerk parts should be here! This is all wrong! We need to pull the plug on this operation right now!" Shomti sighed and grabbed Bentley's arm.

"Let's go. We'll meet up with Sly... Wait. You lead the way. I don't know it." He said. "Sly's in trouble. Inspector Fox is waiting for him." He said, and remembered the traitor who was also lying in wait for him, gritting his teeth. But he didn't say anything. Bentley nodded and ran as fast as he could—that is, at about a light jogging pace for Shomti—toward the rendezvous point where Sly was headed. By the time they got there, Bentley was panting hard and Shomti was rather frustrated with the turtle's inferior speed. Carmelita was shooting at Sly. However, I use that term very, very, very loosely. Shomti bent down to pick up a coin from the ground and an electricity shot just missed him.

"Bentley, does she even realize that she's missing Sly by several yards?" Carmelita fired off another shot in Shomti's general direction.

"I heard that, thief! You're all going to jail!" Shomti chuckled as Murray arrived and the four of them fled Carmelita, Shomti at a considerably calmer pace than the other three. Sly shouted out his usual line.

"You guys get to the van, I'll keep Carmelita busy!" Shomti opted to go with the others, remembering the route Sly took required the Rail Walk and Slide. When they reached it and jumped in, letting Murray drive, Shomti soon regretted it. "Bumpy enough to kill a giant cockroach wearing a seatbelt" would have been an understatement. And, seeing as cockroaches would be the only life left on earth after a nuclear war, that is saying something. Perhaps their resilience is why they have survived since the time of the dinosaurs, back when they were six inches long... you could cut off their head and they wouldn't die for eighteen days, and they'd die of thirst, not lack of a brain. They ate the dust that fell on the stump where their head used to be, and they could somehow still walk around blindly. Meaning that if you carefully dripped water onto that stump you could have a pet headless cockroach for several weeks, or months even. Like chickens.

However, the life of a headless cockroach is completely irrelevant here and therefore I shall discontinue my conversation on such a disturbing topic. Anyway, Murray should NOT have been the designated driver of the getaway van. Every time they went around a curve, he felt the need to slam on the brakes and create large, bold skid marks and nearly tip the van over. Shomti prided himself on never once having felt the need to vomit on a roller coaster, let alone from carsickness... but this was too much.

"Murray! You've been going in circles! Make a **left** turn, instead of a right turn, here. We might get to Sly before he's fried!" Shomti finally had to say. Murray, in the process of making a right turn, continued with the right turn but turned it into a 270 degree spin and drove off to the left. Shomti, having been slammed onto the wall, slid onto the floor. "Bentley, does he always drive like this?"

"Well, nobody else can drive a stick shift." Shomti hit his head against the wall frustratedly.

"So learn!" Shomti said, making to hit his head on the wall again. Murray, however, beat him to the punch and slammed on the brakes, sending Shomti's head hard into the wall and knocking him out as Sly jumped in.

"What'd you do to him, Bentley, hit him with your laptop?" Sly said, chuckling. "Well, at least we don't have to blindfold him now. Neyla made a slip about the Klaww gang back there. What can you get on them?" Bentley tapped furiously at his computer.

"Hm... Well, it looks like I'm going to have to do this later... it's harder than I'd thought. Murray, take us to the hideout. Hey, Sly... can you do a Rubik's Cube?" Sly looked puzzled.

"Um... no, Bentley. Why?"

"Never mind." Bentley said, shaking his head. Then he pointed to Shomti. "What're we going to do about him? He was seen with us by Carmelita. We can't drop him off anywhere." Sly smiled.

"Well, if we can't leave him here, and can't take him with us without him thinking we're taking him into our gang..." A sly look crossed his face. "Can we keep him?" Murray choked on the peanut he was eating and flung everyone in the van forward as he slammed on the brakes. Bentley also choked, though on what it was not apparent.

"What, Sly?! He's a **rookie** We can't take him into the gang, we'll get caught!" Sly's bottom lip trembled and his eyes started to shine. "Oh, no... not the face..." Sly managed to hold the near crying position for a few seconds before laughing to himself. "_Fine!_ We can keep him... but he's your responsibility. And if you two get caught, I'm not breaking him out of jail too." Sly smiled.

"That's good enough." Bentley frowned.

"And we're going to blindfold him whenever we go back to the hideout." Sly shrugged.

"If you weren't going to, I was." Shomti blinked his eyes open. "Oh, look, he's awake. Hey, kid. Welcome to the Cooper gang." Shomti muttered something sleepily. "What was that? Couldn't hear you."

"I don't wanna go to school... five more minutes..." Sly covered his mouth and chuckled.

"Okay, look. You gotta put this on. It's a blindfold. We can't trust you as part of the gang for a while yet, but it's standard procedure for every new person we get. Seeing as you're the first new person, we'll find out how it works." Sly said. Shomti shrugged and let Sly tie the cloth around his head as he tried to get his thoughts cleared. He was actually inside the video game he'd been obsessing about for a year, and was, apparently, an integrated part of the Cooper Gang. For some reason, his arachobutyrophobia seemed to have dissipated, meaning he was no longer chronically afraid of peanut butter sticking to the roof of his mouth. And he was perfectly calm. Just like him to have all his dreams—well, the important ones anyway—come true and be perfectly calm about it. And, completely randomly, he wanted to get on a computer. He wasn't sure why, but he felt like doing something familiar. Like, passing the various trivia questions you could find in flash games very easily. Do you know the difference between coyotes, dogs and wolves? I thought not. He did.

But the difference between those canines is irrelevant. And as Murray consistently jostled Bentley, Shomti and Sly around in the back of the van due to the lack of seat belts, Shomti figured out why he wasn't ecstatic to the point of bouncing off the walls: His subconscious still believed this was impossible. That's the funny thing about having just woken up... your subconscious is partially surfaced into your conscious mind. Or, your conscious mind is partially submerged into your subconscious mind... Same difference. Either way, you can tell what your subconscious is really thinking. Or, maybe you just think you can. Too much thinking... Ugh. I find that you do your best work when you stop thinking and just act on instinct.

My point, however, is he didn't think it was real. As if being knocked out wasn't enough evidence...

"Hey Sly, can I ask you a favor?" Shomti found himself saying, though he didn't remember the reason behind it he knew what he was going to say.

"Go ahead."

"Can you hit me in the stomach with that cane of yours?" Shomti said, straightening up slightly. Sly looked uncertain. "I want to make absolutely sure that I'm not dreaming... because it would suck worse than a leech on your eye." Sly shrugged and wound up. At that advantageous moment, Murray turned a corner and Shomti hit his head on the wall and was knocked out again... just as Sly swung the cane and hit him in the arm hard enough to wake him up. "Ugh... ouch... Okay... it's real... and painful... Thanks, Sly." He said, rubbing his arm. "That's gonna leave a mark."

"Sorry, Shom." Shomti stiffened up at the sound of the nickname, then relaxed. He had forgotten where he'd heard it before, but he remembered it was given to him by someone important... maybe... Oh well. That was long past, now. Or, maybe it wasn't. He had just suffered several serious head injuries in rapid succession... he was too tired to think about it right now. He set his bruised head on the floor and tried to sleep. A few seconds later, he was flung forward as the van stopped.

"Unh... need sleep... computer... peanut butter." He said and dragged himself out of the van. Once out, he tried to stand, but the combined factors of his nausea and his head injuries defied him, and he lost consciousness for the third time that day. Sly was the next out of the van.

"Poor guy... Let's get him inside, shall we? He must be having a rough day or something." Murray jumped out of the van, keys in hand, ready to stomp the ground and bounce the teenager into his hands. "No, Murray, be gentle with him. We don't want to get him killed."

""The Murray" hears what his friend is saying to him!" The hippo said, bending down to scoop him up and carry him into the unidentified area of safety from cops and rival criminals.

Once inside, Murray set him down on the sofa and began wolfing down hot dogs. Bentley got on his computer to search around on ThiefNet for a bed so Shomti wouldn't need to sleep on the floor or sofa. And Sly went to his room to read the Thievius Raccoonus. When Shomti woke up, he shook his head to clear the fog from his thoughts, immediately regretted it and groaned loudly. Bentley looked up from over the top of his laptop.

"Finally... Sly and Murray stuck me with the job of watching you, seeing as I'm supposedly always staying up anyways. So, Shomti, have any preference as to what kind of bed you get? Like, a cot, a sleeping bag, a queen size, a king size...?" Shomti shrugged.

"I'm pretty sure my last bed was a twin size. But I'd rather be on the floor with a pillow and my normal clothes on. Oh, and uh... where am I going to sleep?" Bentley chuckled.

"We took a vote, and you can sleep in Sly's room. It was unanimous. I have too much computer stuff in my room. And Murray... Well, let's just say you DON'T want to walk in there without a haz-mat suit. In Sly's room, all you have to watch out for is so much as touching either his cane or the Thievius Raccoonus." Bentley said. "He's a bit... touchy about those two things. Ask if you want to read the Thievius Raccoonus, don't even try staying up later than him to read it. He's probably up right now, going over some of the harder moves."

"I can remember that. So that's pretty much it? Aren't you going to warn me about anything else?" Shomti said. "Like, don't try to sleep in his bed?" Bentley shrugged.

"Most of the time, we're in the van. You get used to sharing a sleeping space of twenty or so square feet. So I can't say whether or not he would object to that. But just to be safe, don't try it." Shomti shrugged.

"I suppose not." He started to get up, and Bentley stopped him.

"One more thing. He's not expecting you in there tonight, so... better if you stay where you are. And... he talks out loud in his sleep and sleepwalks." Shomti nodded, lying back.

"I'll remember that, too." Shomti snuggled back into his pillow and purred. Or, as close to purring as a human can get. "Hey Bentley?" Bentley looked over the top of his laptop.

"What?" Shomti got up and looked at his laptop, where Bentley was logging off ThiefNet.

"Anything that'll make me blend in with you people better on there?" Bentley shrugged.

"Give me a few days to look, I'm sure they have some body paint or a costume or something. If not, well, I know a bit of voodoo, I might be able to alter your physical appearance to match your inner self. Of course, you might not end up with what you want, but it's better than walking around like that." Shomti nodded.

"It'll be nice to fit in somewhere." He said, yawning and resting his head on the pillow. "You go get some sleep, Bentley. I'll be fine unless Murray sits on me in the morning." Bentley laughed, and started yawning himself.

"Oh, and Shomti..." Shomti opened one eye to look at him.

"What now, Bentley?" Bentley shrugged.

"I just wanted you to know that while I didn't trust you at first, well... you're alright. And... you're going to show me how to do that Rubik's cube tomorrow." He said before closing his laptop and going to his room.


	2. Can You Do Voodoo?

Okay... long chapter. 12,000+ words. Make sure you have some time on your hands.

Can you do Voodoo?

The blackness of sleep faded back. Shomti blinked his eyes open and saw Sly crouching beside him. He groaned.

"Good morning, Sly... I hope you're feeling better than I am." Sly chuckled.

"Well, you're alive. That's good. I told Bentley to watch you." Shomti pushed himself upright.

"Oh, that... I let him leave. He wasn't needed to watch me. Is he awake?" Sly shook his head.

"Most people aren't at this time of day." Shomti shook his head to clear the fog; he had some very sore spots on his head and one on his arm, but he seemed to be alright considering that he'd lost consciousness due to head injuries three times yesterday.

"So... when is this time of day?" Sly looked at some point on the wall past Shomti's head.

"About four in the morning. I couldn't sleep; I worried about you. I did hit you pretty hard back in the museum, after all." Shomti smiled.

"No need to worry about me; I can take a lot more than people think I can. And I can do a lot more, too. Not as much as some, but more than people think." Shomti said. "I took Tae Kwon Do for about four years, quit about four years ago, and about three years ago took up gymnastics." Sly smiled.

"Gymnastics? You should catch on pretty quick, then. I studied acrobatics more than gymnastics, but a good thief always has to know how to roll from danger, or jump higher than usual." Shomti shrugged.

"Well, I knew that from my martial arts. But you know what I do even better than roll, jump, or hit things? I write. I took up authoring in the fifth grade, writing a fanfiction of a farming game in my English journal. I never finished it, but it reached seventy pages or more. And then in seventh grade I wrote a story based on a tale one of my friends told me. That one I finished. It had to be rushed, though, because I moved December of that year. And then, after I left the school I was in before to be homeschooled, I took up writing again, though sporadically. And then—"

"Okay, okay, I get it. You write a lot. Must mean you have good handwriting." Shomti smiled.

"Incorrect. I have an extensively eloquent vocabulary and a vast knowledge of grammar, but my handwriting still sucks." Sly laughed. "Mostly because I used a computer to do most of my writing. So, my WPM skyrocketed to about sixty or so, but my handwriting suffered." He said, rubbing his head and feeling the lumps on it. They weren't so bad, and they didn't hurt as much. His skull didn't seem to be fractured in any places, so that was good.

"Alright, so your handwriting sucks, but that doesn't really matter. As long as you have your own insignia for you to use. You can't use my raccoon." Shomti smiled.

"Oh, most definitely. I've been using it since third grade. Of course, I can't really make it three-dimensional and set it in places I've stolen from. It's sort of... flat. But I can carve it into things. Like Zorro! Er... you do have Zorro here, right?" Sly looked perplexed.

"He's a rogue who just steals from the fat, pompous government officials who do nothing all day and gives the money to the people who need it. Or, wait, that's Robin Hood... Zorro was just a thief. But an honorable one. He was Spanish, and carved a "Z" into the brows of people he killed. He used a rapier." Sly shrugged.

"I'll take your word for it. So, uh... you bored, too?" Shomti nodded. "I could bring the Thievius Raccoonus out here and show some things to you... if you'd like. Or you could come in my room and look at it there with me." Shomti's eyes widened.

"You mean, I get to look at some of the Cooper moves?" He said, not believing what he was hearing. Sly nodded. "This is beyond the coolest thing that I could possibly have imagined ever happening to me." He said, forcing himself up off the couch and onto his feet.

"I take it, then, that we're going to my room to read it?" Shomti nodded, walking forward unsurely, then getting used to it again and moving slightly faster and more fluidly. He let Sly lead the way. It wasn't far, but Shomti would have gotten lost anyway. Remember that he was extremely navigationally challenged and once got lost in a small school for ten minutes after having been there for years. When they arrived, Sly opened the door. Inside was a blacklight rather than a flourescent light for general purposes and a lamp by his bed if he wanted to read the Thievius Raccoonus. He turned this lamp on now, and sat on the bed. Shomti stepped inside unsurely.

"Wow... The blacklight is nice. My eyes are sensitive." Sly chuckled.

"Yeah... normal light is too bright for a thief's eyes, don't you agree?" Shomti smiled broadly.

"Finally, someone understands it... people thought I was a vampire or something because I hated sunlight." He said, laughing a bit. Sly looked puzzled.

"How do you resemble a bat?" Shomti shook his head.

"No, no, not the bat, the... Oh, never mind. So... where do you hide the Thievius Raccoonus? I don't see it in here." Sly smiled and got up off the bed, lifting the mattress off the box spring and reaching underneath it, pressing a button. A hidden door slid open. On a pedestal within was not the Thievius Raccoonus, but a remote control. Sly picked it up and punched in a combination on it. The floor opened up and another pedestal bearing the Thievius Raccoonus emerged. "Wow... high security."

"You don't even want to know where I hid my father's cane." Shomti whistled loudly as Sly picked up the large tome. "So, what should I teach you first?" Shomti raised his eyebrows until it seemed that they were going to lift him off the floor, then, in disbelief, did the most unmanly thing anyone could possibly have done at that moment: he fainted and collapsed onto the floor. But he did it in a very manly manner, falling flat on his back. Sly raised an eyebrow at him and sighed, putting the Thievius Raccoonus back on its pedestal, hitting a button on the remote. "I guess that'll wait..."

He set the remote down and clapped his paws. The compartment closed and he started dragging Shomti out to the sofa. Once there, he found it occupied by Murray.

"Uh... Hi, Sly. Is the little guy okay?" Sly looked down at the human.

"He should be. I offered to teach him some of the Cooper family moves, and he fainted. I think he's really here just to be with us, not to arrest us. I mean, would a cop faint just at the chance to learn a thief''s signature moves?" Murray shrugged.

"I never really thought of the possibility that he might be from Interpol." Sly smiled.

"That, Murray, is why me and Bentley help you. Alone, none of us would be able to pull off a single heist. But together, we've got the stealth, brains, and, uh... brawn necessary." He said, propping Shomti up on the couch and sitting next to him. "What time is it now, Murray?" Murray looked at his wristwatch.

"About five. Normally I don't get up this early, but—"

"You were worried about whether Shomti was hurt or not, right?" Murray nodded.

"That, and I was really hungry." Sly sighed. With Murray, it was always food.

"Well, Bentley normally gets up around seven or so. You wanna watch a movie, hope it might rouse Shomti and pass some time?" Murray nodded.

"Oh, can we watch this one again?" Sly looked at the cover.

"Murray, that's a documentary on how many insects are killed very year for hot dogs." Murray looked at the title and put it back.

"I meant this one." Sly shrugged.

"Sure, put it in." As the title flashed on the screen, Sly settled back into the sofa and regretted not putting some popcorn in the microwave.

By the time the movie ended, Bentley had woken up, surprised to find Sly on the couch but even more surprised to see Murray in even a semi-conscious state. Shomti had also woken up, but was very, very sleepy.

"Shomti? Are you awake?" Shomti heard the nasally voice of Bentley. Apparently, after the movie had ended, Shomti had fallen asleep on the couch without noticing and it was now noon. Murray offered him a sandwich. "Murray, you'll get your turn to talk to him later. Let me talk to him right now."

"What's up, Bentley?" Shomti said, looking up at the turtle. He was holding a stack of papers.

"Well, I've been researching what you requested. Something to make you fit in here better. Unfortunately, I didn't find any information on a costume or something..." Shomti's face looked crestfallen. "However, I did find a voodoo spell that, if I do it right, may be able to change your bodily form. But it'll take a lot of mojo." Shomti nearly laughed out loud at hearing that word in a serious sentence, but managed to turn it into a cough.

"Okay... when do we start it?" Bentley looked at the paper in his hand.

"It says here it is most likely to be effective on the night of a full moon, better yet when the subject's astrological sign is high in the sky. What is your astrological sign?"

"Libra. I was born on the day after an autumnal equinox." Bentley nodded.

"Good, good. That's even better. Right now, the moon is waxing gibbous. Or, more than three quarters full and getting bigger. We have, oh... three days to wait? No, four. Gives us enough time to get the needed specialized supplies." Shomti smiled. "And the news gets even better. Your sign, Libra, is currently high in the sky over Paris. And, I've been researching this Klaww gang. I had to call in a few favors, but here it is. Dimitri just so happens to be in Paris, running a nightclub. He has the Clockwerk tailfeathers, but not for much longer. We should arrive there the day of the full moon, and I'll have the supplies ready by then. Alright then, let's go!" Shomti got up off the couch, his head feeling a lot less sore than only hours before, and beamed. It wasn't exactly the best smile you'd ever see, seeing as his idea of a smile was normally just curving your lips, not showing any teeth at all. So, his beaming turned out rather similar to his infernal, I-will-hunt-you-to-the-ends-of-the-earth death glare. Which, fortunately, was not nearly as potent as it sounded. He was just naturally mellow.

"Shomti, I'm going to need something of yours you've had for a long time. And I don't mean months, I mean years. At least three, four would be better." Shomti seemed to think.

"My shoes. They're at least three years old. And it's fairly evident, isn't it?" He said, taking one shoe off and sticking his finger through a hole in the side, the tip poking out another hole in the other side. Bentley looked at the shoes.

"Okay. That's unusual. Er, if I might ask, why are your shoes the oldest thing you own?" Shomti shrugged.

"Because they came with me to California from New York when I moved and they had sentimental value. I couldn't throw these out, I've gone on several hundred miles of hikes in these. And that's not counting walking around the zoo or SeaWorld. And don't get me started on bicycling trips." Shomti said, protectively handling the worn footwear before slipping it back on his foot. Murray offered the sandwich he had been holding before to Shomti. Shomti took it, hungry, and ate it quickly. It was a matter of seconds before he was asleep again. Bentley was impressed.

"You two planned this, didn't you?" Sly grinned.

"He needs his rest. He was hit pretty hard in the head yesterday. Let's get to Paris already. He'll be out for, oh... eight, nine hours? That's more than enough time to get there, right Bentley?" Bentley looked at his watch.

"I suppose, if we have four tickets for a jet passenger plane." Sly snorted.

"Bentley, we have plenty of money for that. I mean, the con man whose house we emptied last, that's enough money for our own jet plane. Which reminds me, why don't we have one?" Bentley shrugged. Murray made himself a sandwich. "Anyway, I'll get on the phone. Maybe I can charm our way up to first class." Sly said, smiling as he went to get the phone. Bentley raised his eyebrow.

"Well, Murray, what do I do now? Sly seems to have forgotten that I still need to interview Shomti to find out the best way to voodoo him into his new form. I mean, it says here that depending on his perspective on the universe that he may need anything from a bit of dust to a hair pulled from the tail of a fox." Murray looked at Bentley.

"Well, I hope you aren't looking to get that hair from Carmelita. That could be bad for you!" Murray said.

"I know... it also says here the different things he could be turned into. There's quite a list of them. The person who put this on the Internet certainly did a lot of thinking..." Murray offered Bentley the sandwich he had made earlier.

"I noticed you didn't eat lunch yet, Bentley. Here, have this. I was going to eat it, but I think you'd better have it." Bentley gratefully took the sandwich and bit into it. When his vision got a bit blurry, the turtle realized he had fallen for the same trick Shomti had. But he didn't have very long to think about it. Murray caught the falling turtle and set him on the couch next to Shomti. "I thought you looked stressed and needed a nap... Sorry, Bentley." The sound of a phone being set down was heard and Sly walked into the room.

"Alright, Bentley, we're going to have to leave pretty soon, because the last flight of the day is leaving in a few hours." He stopped, seeing Bentley asleep next to Shomti. "Good thing Bentley isn't the one who drives. Okay Murray, you get Shomti and I'll get Bentley. We'd better start going right now." Murray nodded, scooping the limp teenager into his arms and carrying him out to the van. Sly grabbed Bentley by the underarms and dragged him out to the van.

"A little help here, Murray?" He said. Murray nodded, picking Bentley up and putting him in the van next to Shomti. Sly hopped in the back of the van and shut the doors. "Alright, Murray, just remember I have two unconscious people back here. Try not to make it any harder for me to keep them alive."

"Sly?" Sly looked at the hippo.

"Yes, Murray?" Murray looked at the van.

"How're we going to get the van to Paris?" Sly frowned.

"You know, I hadn't thought about that. But people have moved bigger things by airplane. I'll open the cargo doors for you and you can drive it in the plane we're taking. I'll point it out to you." Sly said. "Now then, there's just one more thing for you to do." Murray turned around in the driver's seat.

"What's that, Sly?"

"Get this van started, what else?" Murray smiled, and so began their long trip to the airport. Murray was very careful about going around turns, and it turned out he was very inconspicuous when he had to be. When the Gang reached the Airport, Sly pointed to a large passenger plane.

"That's the one, Murray. Drive us in there, I'll distract any guards that might see us approach." Sly said, jumping out the back of the van. He reached into the pack on his leg and pulled out a box of the popping little firecrackers that even little kids can't hurt themselves with, but make a good bang. He held one up, and to test that they worked clapped his hands on one. A small flash of light and a snapping sort of noise let Sly know that they worked fine. "Okay, I'll be on my way now. Follow my route exactly." Murray nodded. As Sly crept forward, he pulled out another small firecracker and tossed it in the general direction of a guard. It snapped right between his feet, startling him so much he jumped into the air and fell on his butt. After another went off on his head, the German shepherd was convinced he was under fire and ran off to cower behind something. Murray moved forward and Sly took care of the rest of the "guards" in the same manner, though it was obvious none knew what a real gunshot sounded like.

When Murray drove the van up to the airplane, Sly jumped up on his head and bounced up to the handle to open the cargo door. It slid down, a ramp, and Murray inched the team van into the belly of the airplane. Sly was about to shut the door, when he remembered about Bentley and Shomti. They were going to be asleep for another four hours, and the gang needed to get into the airport and to their gate in the next thirty minutes. Sly motioned to Murray, climbing into the van and grabbing the turtle within while Murray picked up the human.

"Murray, what're we going to do? Shomti's a human, he'll never make it past security! People will notice him!" Murray smiled.

"They're asleep, right, Sly? Just put a blanket over them. Tell the airport folks that they overdosed on their sleeping aid or something. Or they both had a cold and took some night medicine by mistake. Trust me. My parents did it all the time." Sly was impressed.

"Murray, it's nice to know that if Bentley is unconscious I can count on you for a plan to get him and a human onto a plane. However, if we ever have to do this again, I'll be afraid for the collective intelligence of the gang." He said, hoisting the turtle over his shoulder and moving as fast as he could back to the entrance. The guards were still cowering, so there was no trouble on the way back. Then Sly remembered.

"Murray, we don't have a blanket for Shomti." Murray shrugged and pulled out his scarf. "You carry that around with you? It'll work, I guess." He said, wrapping it around the upper body of the small human. Because he was small and Murray was, well, big, the scarf was able to be a feasibly sized blanket.

Once they reached the security check line, they had endured many odd looks and poorly concealed chuckles. They got into line where a large dog was checking out the people in front of them because it was the shortest line.

"Wait, Sly. I get the feeling that line will be better." He said, pointing to a long line headed by a young fox security guard. Sly just shrugged.

"This one is shorter, but okay. That guy looks a lot less strict anyway." The two headed over to the fox's line and waited patiently. When it was finally their turn, he took their tickets, checked them, made sure they were real, then asked to see who was under the blanket.

"It's my cousin... these two, they took some night medicine instead of the daytime medicine. Silly mistake." Sly said, trying to wheedle his way out of showing the security guard the human. The fox leaned in closer to Sly's face.

"Hey... I know you... you're Sly Cooper. Look, I know you think this is a catastrophe, but I'm a big fan of your work. A big fan. Go on through. As long as that guy's not dead, it's fine, after all." Sly laughed.

"No, no, he's our friend, he's fine. Thanks. Here, give me your address, I can send you a souvenir from my next, uh... job." The fox raised his eyebrows and pulled a pen and a sheet of paper out of his pocket, tore the sheet of paper in two, and jotted his address down on one half. The other, he offered to Sly.

"I'm going to need a verification of your signature... preferably you could write it two times? To Raithe, if you will." Sly nearly laughed out loud, but kept a straight face as he gave his first autograph. "And... who is that guy Murray is carrying? Let me just see his face. You only have three guys in your gang." Sly sighed, and leaned in close.

"He's not from this world, and it shows... if we take that blanket off his face, panic could ensue. I'll send you a picture with your souvenir, okay? That is, if I can get one before Bentley changes him." The fox raised his eyebrows even higher and returned to his upright posture.

"Okay, you're clear, Mister Cobb. Go on through." He said loudly. Sly thanked him in a different accent than he normally sounded like, and moved on, trying to move quickly to get to gate 27 before they missed their flight. They just made it, and Sly handed his tickets to the old female badger collecting them. She sniffed them, and then tore them and handed the stubs back.

"Have a nice trip, honored guests." She said sarcastically. Sly and Murray thanked her and stepped in, making their way to the first class seats.

"Well, that wasn't so bad, eh Murray?" A few minutes after they were in the air, a raccoon stewardess offered them a cold glass of water, winking at Sly. Sly accepted the glass of water, splashing it in Bentley's face. The turtle instantly woke up.

"FOR THE LOVE OF TECHNOLOGY AND ALL THAT IS GOOD IN THE WORLD, WHAT'S GOING ON?!?" Sly uncovered his ears and apologized to the stewardess for any inconvenience, who had spilled water all over herself.

"Thank you for purchasing your refreshing beverage..." She said through gritted teeth. "...ahole." She finished, offering some water to Bentley, who took it and poured it on Sly. Then Sly snatched another glass and splashed it in the general direction of Bentley, forgetting Murray was also in the way. So Murray took a glass of water in each hand and spilled it over both their heads. The stewardess, irritated, handed the last glass of water on the platter to another first-class passenger and hit Sly over the head with the now-empty plate. As she left, Sly heard her muttering something under her breath.

"Figures that all the attractive male coons are nothing but immature..." At that fortuitous time, she passed out of earshot. So I don't have to write out the rather rude cursing that Sly would have been surprised she knew. He raised his eyebrows.

"Well... she was mad, wasn't she?" Bentley narrowed his eyes at Sly. "Right... Sorry about that. But we need you awake. You have those voodoo papers with you, right?" Sly said, looking around and drawing the curtains around their section of the plane. "Wake Shomti up and figure out what we need to get for him. And before we change him, I need a picture." Bentley looked at him funny. "It's for the guard that checked to see if we were safe. He's a fan of our work." Bentley nodded, understanding now.

"And you couldn't show him the newest member of our gang in the middle of a crowded airport because he's, well, different." Sly nodded.

"Well, wake him up now. But, uh... gently." Bentley nodded resolutely and shook the sleeping teenager by the shoulders, gently, then more firmly. He did not appear to wake up. Then Sly had an idea. He pulled out the box of small firecrackers he had used to distract the guards and found one more left. He had been hoping to save it for an emergency getaway, but this was their last hope of waking Shomti up. "Sorry about this Shomti..." He held the small sack of gunpowder and flint between his fingers, right by Shomti's ear, and rolled his fingers, causing the flint to spark, light the gunpowder, creating a small flash and a loud noise. Shomti's eyes snapped open.

"Wha-? Where am I? Ok... window looking out upon nothing but clouds... luggage rack overhead... anthropomorphic animals... Oh! Right! I'm here." The raccoon stewardess pushed her head through the curtains, eyes respectfully closed as was the policy.

"Lunch time. We've got food if you don't have it yourself." Shomti looked at her.

"We have our own food, thank you. Try the skydiving lessons, I'm sure they're wonderful. Better yet if you don't use a parachute." Sly said. The raccoon pulled her head out haughtily. Bentley chuckled, then looked at Shomti and pulled the large stack of voodoo instructions out, cleared his throat and began quizzing Shomti. Shomti, who had taken hundreds of Internet quizzes for fun, was very good at answering the questions.

"Alright, Shomti, you have to choose an Olympic sport, what is it?" Shomti laughed out loud.

"Gymnastics." Bentley flipped to a new page.

"And which event in gymnastics?" Shomti shrugged.

"Trampoline, parallel bars and rings." Bentley pulled a small notebook and a pen out of his backpack and jotted something down.

"Interesting... Now then, do you prefer balance gained by separately having light and dark or do you prefer balance gained by total neutrality?" Shomti shrugged.

"I have both, but more often it turns out to be the first, and not being totally balanced either. I was born the day after an equinox, not on one, after all." Bentley nodded.

"That you were... Okay, pick a magical element." Shomti seemed to think a bit.

"Er... Nature, forest, that sort of thing. Not earth." Shomti said. Bentley flipped the pages yet again.

"Alright... If I said to name a mythical animal, what would you say?"

"Will three do?" Bentley nodded.

"Dragon, werewolf, vampire." Bentley jotted another thing down.

"Okay, name an ordinary animal."

"Fox." Shomti answered instantly. Bentley looked at the page and wrote another thing down.

"Any number?"

"Three one six." Bentley looked confused.

"Is that three separate numbers?"

"Yes and no. They're three separate numbers, not three hundred sixteen, but they have no meaning separate from each other." Bentley nodded and jotted something down.

By the time they were done, Bentley had nearly filled the whole notebook with notes.

"Okay, now all I have to do is determine what it is you need using your answers and the final few pages..." He looked at the final few pages and saw that only one list of supplies had been given, and it was for the exact set of answers Shomti had named. At the bottom of the list of fifty or so supplies was a single word, typed in all caps: FOX. Bentley raised his eyebrows, then pulled out a separate notebook and jotted all the supplies needed into it. Shortly after they were done, the plane started descending to the landing strip. "Alright, Shomti, I have everything you'll need written down right here. Fortunately, I'm fairly sure that ThiefNet will have everything we need. Now then, Sly... where's the van?" Sly smiled.

"It's in the cargo hold, Bentley." Bentley's eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of his skull.

"You do realize that when we arrive at our destination, people go into the cargo hold to get people's luggage out?!" Sly frowned.

"I didn't realize that." Bentley and Shomti sighed together. This was going to be a difficulty.

Eventually, they did get the van back by means of Sly sneaking into the cargo hold, knocking out a few choice guards that had seen it, and attempting to drive it out. How he managed it, Shomti could only guess. But it worked, they got the van back, and Shomti was very glad about it. Bentley immediately got onto ThiefNet to look for the supplies he would need for the voodoo transformation of Shomti, Sly calmly pulled a copy of a few pages from the Thievius Raccoonus out of the glove box and started reading, Murray searched for his jelly beans, and Shomti sat in the very center of the back of the van, to avoid any more head injuries. Fortunately, Murray was very careful not to attract more attention than the van's paint job naturally did. So, they arrived at Paris with relatively few complications. Bentley had already obtained a safehouse for the gang, and he gave Murray the directions to it. It was rather small, but it would do. Once there, they decided that they could wait a while before plundering Dimitri's nightclub.

They decided to be tourists while waiting for the supplies from ThiefNet. They showed Shomti the Eiffel Tower, they took him out to eat snails, and they taught him some French. Namely, just how to say "Hello" "How are you" and "So-so", which I shall not repeat here, because it would simply take up too much space. Of course, explaining why I am not going to repeat it is taking up much more space, so I think I might just tell you... Nope. Never mind.

Anyway, after having gone to an expensive restaurant dressed in casual clothes, upsetting the guests with their loud laughter, and consequently being thrown out, they emerged from the van...

"Shomti, did you see the waiter looking at you? He didn't quite know what to make of you! We had to give him fifty coins just to keep him from calling the police!" Sly said, choking on his words as he struggled to get them out. Shomti cracked up laughing with the other three. After being part of their gang for a few days, Shomti got to know the sides of them that he couldn't see from the video game... the sides he enjoyed the most. Sly's staying cool in situations and Murray's eating everything, those were easily seen in the games. But the way Sly held himself in public, that was never in the games... This world wasn't based on the games, the games were based on it, Shomti knew it. The games were imperfect... Sly could never jump from two hundred feet and survive, not here. The games were... Well, they were just games. This was life. As they walked up to the safehouse, they found a very large package outside the door with a very small tag on it with just two letters: TN. ThiefNet.

Bentley smiled.

"Murray, could you get that for me? Don't drop it, we don't want to hurt anything in it." Sly frowned.

"I still don't get it. Why, exactly, does ThiefNet carry voodoo supplies?" Bentley sighed.

"Some thieves use voodoo instead of stealth. You don't have to get it, just help me open it." He said when Murray set it down in the middle of the room. Sly raised his cane, but Bentley caught his arm. "That's a big no. There's breakable stuff in there. Here, open it with this." Bentley held up a dagger. Sly took it and looked at it.

"Why exactly do we have a dagger here?" Bentley shrugged.

"I saw it in a knife shop at one of the malls near here, and I thought Shomti might like to use it. After all, in his interviewing he said he would rather use a dagger than any other weapon." Sly sighed.

"No cane, huh, Shomti?" Shomti shook his head. Bentley turned the dagger over, holding it by the blade.

"Actually, the pommel and handle form an acceptable cane when the blade is sheathed. At least, acceptable for pickpocketing. Don't try to swing from anything with this, either it'll come unsheathed and you'll fall to your death or you won't have it sheathed and you'll cut yourself before falling to your death." Shomti grimaced.

"Thanks for the warning." Sly shrugged, taking the dagger and poising it to open the cardboard box, then thought better of it and offered the dagger to Shomti.

"Here, I think you'd better do the honors. Oh, wait!" Sly fumbled for his binocucom and made Shomti pose. "It's a promise I made. Okay, say cheese!" Sly said and pressed the button. The digital camera flashed once, then again and the noise that let you know it had taken the picture ensued, a sort of low buzzing. Shomti blinked, lowered the dagger from its throwing position, and cut off the top of the box swiftly. Inside were a bunch of candles, some chalks, and other various items. He carefully lifted most of the supplies out, then saw on the bottom a few other things. One, a dagger identical to the one he had in his hand. Two, a glass ball that seemed to have energy bouncing around inside of it. He supposed it must be contained mojo for the operation. And finally, a small plastic bag with a few hairs in it. On the label was "Hairs from a Fox's Tail. Donor: Raithe Dethwriter". When he took it out and showed it to Sly, Sly raised his eyebrows.

"That's, well, a coincidence. Raithe is the security guard at the airport who I took your picture for... I couldn't really show your face in the middle of a crowded airport, now could I?" Shomti shrugged and set it on the table, letting Bentley open the candles and light them. When that was done, he had to move the table, drawing a large and intricate pentagram on the floor and placing the over sixty candles on key points on aforementioned pentacle. Once that was done, he put Shomti in the center of the pentagram, told him what to do, gave him the glass orb, and dimmed the lights. He took a single hair from the small bag, tossed it on the large center candle, which had so many wicks it was like an open fire, and nodded to Shomti who started speaking what he was told to say. It wasn't ancient strings of gibberish, just a way of telling the voodoo what you wanted it to do. It was quite a monologue, and by the time he finished, Murray was nearly asleep. He raised the solid glass orb over his head and threw it to the ground, smashing it. But instead of littering the floor with shattered glass, the fragments became globs of molten energy, rising and reforming into a single ball, then speeding toward Shomti's chest. It impacted, lifting him and bodily throwing him into the wall, but at the same time it didn't impact. It melded into his body, and he became unconscious.

The others didn't see the ball of energy rising. They saw the shards of glass melt into the floor and disappear, and Shomti, it seemed, simply fell backwards and hit his head. They sighed, picked Shomti up, and took him to where he was sleeping: Sly's bed. Sly didn't complain; in fact, he was the one who had said to put him there. Sly curled up on the floor and, after thinking how terrible it must have been for the ritual to fail, finally fell asleep. Bentley was up for hours, researching an alternate way to help Shomti blend in, but found nothing and eventually also went to sleep. Murray, the most sensitive of the bunch, didn't eat anything that night. He didn't get up for his eleven o'clock snack, he didn't get his midnight snack, and he didn't get his before-dawn snack, which he usually did while sleepwalking. He had bonded well with Shomti, almost to the same point as he had bonded with Bentley and Sly, and he hated to see anything that would cause sadness for Shomti. He knew that Shomti was looking forward to fitting in... now he wouldn't.

In the morning, Sly couldn't bring himself to look at Shomti and walked right out, making a bowl of cereal but not eating much. Bentley and Murray got up at much the same time, taking Sly's lead and eating silently for a while. At last, Bentley decided to break the silence.

"I can't believe that didn't work! Shomti must be heartbroken... I hate to say it, but that was the only lead I got on anything that would make him blend in at all." A clatter was heard from Sly's room, as though Shomti had fallen off his bed. "That must be him. Don't mention it to him, he'll just get more depressed." Sly and Murray nodded in agreement. They all looked at the door, and it opened. But it wasn't a human hand that propelled it open. Instead, it was a fox's furry black paw. Shomti, a fully anthropomorphic fox, walked out. Apparently, he hadn't noticed, because he was very sullen looking. He looked up at the others.

"What? Thought it would work overnight or something? I... I'm still a human..." He said, sitting and sulking. Sly raised his eyebrows.

"Shomti... there's something on your face... Here, look at it in the mirror." Shomti turned his head away and knocked the mirror to the floor, putting his face in his hands. But as he did, he realized his face didn't fit his hands quite right... it was almost... almost as if...

He snatched a piece of the mirror off the floor and looked into it. He finally realized that he had changed overnight, and was too much of a fool to notice it. Bentley, Murray, and even Sly were smiling ecstatically. He looked himself over. He was still wearing his jeans and shirt, tail sticking out through a hole that had apparently been put there by some excess mojo, and hands had retractable claws.

"Fox... only member of the dog family with retractable claws." He muttered to himself. "This... this could take some getting used to." He said, smoothing out his fur. Sly chuckled, holding out the dagger from the knife shop and the dagger from the box. Shomti looked between the two, then grabbed them both. "Perfect..." He jumped for joy, then hit his head on the ceiling due to a combination of a low ceiling, a tall fox, and a very high jumping ability. He shook his head.

"Gotta remember that... Now then... lemme at them guards..." He said, twirling his daggers around his fingers adeptly. Sly looked at Bentley nervously.

"Shomti, you gotta remember to keep them sheathed unless you're using them." Shomti snorted.

"Unless the sheath is for my forearm, there's no way. I couldn't get them out quick enough." He said, holding them up to his face to examine them. The blades were single-edged and razor sharp. To test this, Shomti pulled a hair from his tail, wincing slightly, and ran it lightly along the edge. It cut without effort. "Fantastic. Now then, let me see... I have got a tail... that's new. I've never had one before. Okay, how do I make it move...? Ah, that's how. Okay... Hm... Okay... Sensitive ears and nose... Right. I think I've evaluated my new body enough. Now to give it a field test. Come on, Bentley, what do you need done? Give me a field job." Bentley shrugged.

"I need some recon of the nightclub and other things. You think you and Sly can handle it?" Shomti nodded. "Then you'll need your own binocucom. It's basically a copy of Sly's, only I made it red." Shomti smiled broadly and took the binocucom happily.

"Thanks, Bentley. Well, this is awesome..." Sly opened the door and climbed up the pipe outside to the roof of the safehouse. Shomti followed somewhat more nimbly than he could have when he was human, flipping the left-hand dagger into his teeth and ascending with one hand. Er... paw. Either way, when he got up to the roof, he crouched and pulled his binocucom out, listening to the conversation Sly was having with Bentley.

"Sly, Shomti, the first thing we're going to do is hack into Dimitri's mainframe. I've created this special antenna. Now, what you two need to do is point the satellite dishes around here toward this antenna. I'm going to have you split up so it goes faster. Shomti, if you want to take a guard down quickly, just remember that a guard will go down faster if you pierce his spinal cord rather than his heart. A guard stabbed in the heart will live for about five more minutes... it's much more humane to stick your blade through the base of their neck. Of course, if you miss and hit an artery, it's a lot more bloody, but you won't mind that, right?" Shomti cringed.

"Actually, Bentley... I get a bit sick when I see other people's blood... my own, that's fine... but..." He shuddered. "I'll remember what you told me, thanks." He said, putting his binocucom in his pocket. "Sly, I'll go get that dish. You take the other one. We'll meet at the third." Sly nodded, and dashed off, jumping from roof to roof. Shomti gulped, then ran head-on at the edge of the roof. When he reached it, he pushed off of it and launched himself through the air. He landed far beyond the edge of the other roof due to his newfound jumping abilities, and crouched as he landed to break his fall. He let out a relieved breath, then looked up and, seeing the satellite dish so far, groaned and got up to start at the opposite edge. This time, he only broke stride long enough to jump and reach the other side, whereupon he started running again. At the rate he was going, he was going to reach the satellite array in a few minutes... Paris was bigger than it looked. He jumped three more gaps, then stopped to rest and, as he did, remembered that sometimes guards patrolled rooftops. He heard footsteps behind him and held his daggers cautiously, standing up slowly and quickly turning around. The guard hadn't seen him, so he snuck up behind the guard and wrapped an arm around the rat's throat, pulling hard so it couldn't squeal. Then he closed his eyes, calmed himself, and pushed his right-hand dagger into the back of the rat's neck. He felt it hit bone, so he tilted it down, and it slid between the vertebrae and cut the spinal cord of the rat. It went limp in his hands, and he dropped it. He was breathing deeply, but he knew that the rat was just a guard... and that guard would have killed him if he had been seen. Knowing that he had saved his own life, he turned the guard's body over and pulled the coin purse off of it and strapped it on his own waist.

"Sorry, but I need this more than you." He said, continuing his trek over the rooftops and, upon reaching the dish, looked down at the keyboard. It made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever, so he just rolled his eyes and brought the pommel of his dagger down on the keyboard and muttered one of his favorite quotes.

"When in doubt, hit it with something heavy." The dish slowly tilted down, and Shomti saw a blue beam issue forth from it. It was followed by a green beam shooting from the nightclub. "I guess Sly already got the third one..." Shomti pulled out his binocucom, looking for the safe house. He saw a blue beacon, and knew it must be Sly, since it was topped with an image of Sly's head that was more realistic than the job beacons that were used in the game. And it was moving. On the bottom of his binocucom, he felt a set of three different buttons, and looked at them. The first one was blue; it obviously was to communicate with Sly. The second was green and likely for Bentley, and the third was predictably purplish pink and quite probably for talking to Murray. He replaced the binocucom on his face, and noticed there were two spaces in the bottom corners like those in the game. Pressing the blue button, he saw his face appear in the bottom right and a colorful ring appeared, the colors on it swirling—apparently the "I'm calling your friend" symbol—and soon Sly's head appeared in the bottom left corner of the binocucom. He vaguely wondered how it was that they had pictures of who was talking, but shook his head. It was unimportant.

"Sly, I'll be right there... I just got my dish done. And I saw you got the other two." Sly's image nodded.

"Right... See you here, then?" Shomti nodded, hoping his image would do the same. It did. Once again, he wondered how the binocucom managed that.

"See you there." He clicked the blue button again, and the images vanished. He shut off his binocucom, and put it in his coin purse that he had salvaged from the guard. He found within the coin purse a bronze watch, and strapped it on his wrist. He wouldn't sell it; he had to remember that first guard that he had to take down somehow. The second... the second would be easier, but the first would be the one that popped into his head whenever he thought of guards. He looked in the direction of the third satellite dish; it wasn't far. He ran at the edge of the building silently, launching himself off it and continuing his run. On the third building he jumped to, he encountered a guard. However, he just ran past. He didn't want to kill another guard... the first was hard enough, and he could get past without the guard noticing him.

He was right; he made it to the satellite dish without any mishaps. Sly was sitting and whistling.

"Hello, Sly." Sly looked up in the middle of the Imperial March, and smiled.

"Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think you were captured or something. What took you so long?" Shomti looked down.

"Remember I told you I hadn't killed anything bigger than my fist... at least, on purpose?" Sly's face fell. "Well... I encountered my first guard..." Sly sighed.

"Don't worry... the second is, well, it's easier. As long as it's not all you ever do in your life, your personality will be preserved. And let me tell you, you have a personality that is... Well... it's, uh..."

"Unique?" Shomti said, looking up.

"Unique. But in a good way! Look, don't get obsessed with it. I see you took something to remember him. That's good. I have a pair of sunglasses from my first guard... they're hidden even better than the Thievius Raccoonus. Come on, let's get you back to the safehouse. How old did you say you were?" Shomti chuckled, wiping a single tear from his right eye.

"I didn't say. But I'm fifteen." Sly shrugged.

"Well, I suppose we're your legal guardians now... soo... it'd be legal to give you some wine, right? I mean, it's France, you can't be here without drinking some wine." Shomti smiled broadly.

"Sly, you know what? You're talking about it being legal to serve me wine, and yet you've stolen probably more than a million dollars worth in loot. And besides that... you're not even at the legal drinking age in the US yet." Sly laughed out loud.

"That's probably true... let's get back to the safehouse. Which way is it?" Shomti pulled out his binocucom, and pointed to the yellow icon before putting his binocucom away and running towards it. "Hey, Shomti..." The fox looked back at him. "I'll race you." Sly said, and took off sprinting towards the direction Shomti had pointed. Shomti, on the other hand, didn't bother jumping to the next building. He dropped to the ground below and started running as soon as he hit the concrete. He actually ran right through the beam of one warthog's flashlight and got away before anything could fire off a single shot. He supposed the guard dismissed it as a fleeting shadow, so when Shomti jumped under the rail to the stairs and opened the door to see Sly already inside he didn't have a scratch. But he was a bit crestfallen.

"Okay, Sly... you win. But don't I get a consolation prize?" Sly smiled, and opened the refrigerator, standing so Shomti couldn't see what he was getting out. When he turned around, he was holding a bottle of wine. Shomti beamed.

"Thought you might like some of this." Bentley raised an eyebrow.

"Sly, he looks like he's only sixteen... I'm not sure we should..." Sly silenced him with a look. "Oh, I mean... Of course we can! Sure, shouldn't be a problem." Shomti smiled.

"Thanks... But, uh... don't let me drink more than a couple of glasses. I seem to have a resistance to alcohol, but I don't want to get drunk. I'm pretty sure there's another job I can do..." Bentley shook his head. Sly joined him.

"Oh, no, Shomti. You probably don't realize it, but your first guard, well... it's traumatic. You need to rest, relax..." He said, pulling the cork out of the bottle of wine with an effort. "And enjoy yourself." Shomti shrugged.

"Well... since you said it... But you have to promise you'll teach me some of the Cooper family moves. At the least, the Rail Walk. It'll help a lot around here." Sly nodded, and offered a wine glass to Shomti. Shomti took a firm hold of it, hand wrapped around the stem as though it were some medieval goblet. Sly burst out laughing, Murray tried to correct him in the proper way to hold it, and Bentley didn't even notice. Shomti lifted the glass to his lips and downed all the wine within it in naught but a few gulps.

"Shomti... I do believe you're supposed to sip it." Shomti shrugged.

"And you're supposed to hold the glass delicately by the actual glass-bowl-wine-holding-thing, right? Like this?" He said, holding it as he described. Sly nodded. And Shomti reverted to his medieval grip. "Might you pour me more wine?" Shomti said. Sly hesitantly complied.

This time, the wine was gone even faster than before. Sly denied Shomti a refill when he asked for another.

"That's enough for you, you told me to stop at two glasses." Shomti shrugged and set his glass down.

"I guess I did, didn't I? Well... okay. But you'd better be ready to teach me those Cooper moves by tomorrow, okay Sly?" Sly nodded. Shomti sighed, and rinsed out his cup, putting it in the cupboard. "So... what do we do now? Just sleep?" Sly shrugged.

"Well, if you'd like, I can teach you the Rail Walk and Spire Landing tonight and we can test them in the field tomorrow." Shomti's eyes lit up.

"Do you really mean it?" Sly nodded, smiling in his usual fashion.

"Sure... Except one little detail. There aren't any ropes or rails to walk on. So I'm going to have to teach you the Rail Walk out in the field." He said, going into his room to get the Thievius Raccoonus. When he emerged, he picked up his cane and went outside, gesturing to Shomti to follow him. Shomti, hardly believing what he was about to go and do, picked up his daggers and followed the raccoon outside.

Sly was outside, on a nearby roof. Shomti climbed up the pipe to the roof of the safehouse, and jumped across the gap to land on the same roof as Sly. Sly looked at him.

"No wonder you took so long getting to me. Before I teach you how to Rail Walk, you have to learn to jump properly. Forget the whole crouch/spring method. You lose all your running momentum. You run at the edge, not too fast or you'll be too loud, and when you reach the curb at the edge of the roof..." He put his footpad halfway off the edge of the curb. "You put your foot just like this. You don't move your knee; it's the ankle. You spring off of it and put the opposite foot in front of you in the air so you're ready to run when you land. Not too far, or you'll do the splits. Now here's what it should look like all together." Sly took a few steps back, and ran quickly but silently at the edge. When he reached it, he didn't break stride; rather, he simply stepped on the edge as if it were another part of the floor. But when he launched off, Shomti focused on how Sly's ankle bent like a flat spring in an old springboard and launched him across the gap with room to spare.

"You try it now, Shomti." Shomti let out a breath, breathed in deeply again, and ran at the edge, almost as stealthily as Sly had. He placed his foot on the edge of the curb, and powered his light frame through the air using the natural spring separating his foot and leg. He landed even farther from the edge of the other building than Sly had, but had a hard time landing right and ended up crouching silently. "It'll do for now. We'll work on that landing later. Now then... the Rail Walk. Fortunately, there's a rope right here. It's mostly balance, but you don't walk on it like you would the ground. It's rounded, so that won't work. You have to grip it with your feet and push yourself forward when you're running. When you aren't, always keep at least one hand on the rope. Moving tends to help with balance. You understand me, Shomti?" Shomti nodded. "Good. Now, I'll show you, and then I'll help you do it." Sly jumped into the air, landed on the rope, and crouched on it, left hand on the rope between his feet. Then he lifted his hand and ran along the rope, about as fast as he did when he wanted to get somewhere silently, but bent much farther down. Then he turned around and returned to Shomti. Shomti looked at the rope nervously.

"You know, Sly... I might not be ready..." Sly glared at him.

"Come on, Shomti. You're the first person I've ever been able to teach any proper thief moves. Murray has the spirit, but he's just not stealthy enough. Bentley, well, he's Bentley. He can't keep his balance on flat ground. Just try. You won't fall. I'll catch you." Sly said, holding out a hand. Shomti calmed himself slightly, and stepped shyly onto the rope. Sly pushed him back, onto the building. "No, Shomti. I'm sorry, but you won't keep your balance if you step on the rope. Jump onto it. You won't fall, I promise you." Shomti narrowed his eyes at the raccoon, but jumped into the air and landed on the rope. He didn't even wobble; his body automatically straightened its center of balance on the rope. Sly smiled, and ran down to the other end of the rope, whereupon he jumped off onto the building there. Shomti followed him, shakily at first, but more confidently by the time he reached the end. Sly smiled, and jumped off the rope. Shomti pushed himself off the rope, and landed gently on the roof before him. Looking at Sly, he smiled broadly.

"Thanks for the encouragement... I could not have done that without you, even in this body. Now then... for a little stroll above Paris. And while we're at it, we might as well recon inside the nightclub, eh?" Sly nodded, and ran off ahead, jumping into the air and hooking onto a pipe with his cane, starting to climb. Shomti, who didn't have a cane to hook onto the pipe with, simply ran and jumped to the roof of the building. Sly smiled, and took off running. Shomti caught up quickly, being able to move just as quickly as Sly could, and soon the nightclub's back entrance came into view. Sly jumped confidently to the rope holding the lanterns around the area, but Shomti just jumped down to where the guards were pacing. He walked up behind one, and plunged his dagger into the rat's neck. The squeak of surprise, however, alerted the other guard. The frog stumbled toward the intruder, pulling a horn of sorts out of his backpack as he did. He didn't have a chance to blow it, though, because Sly ran up to the side of the guard and knocked him into the air before slamming him into the ground.

"You were right, Sly. The second guard is easier. Come on, open the door so we can get in there, take the photos and get out." When Sly tried the door, however, it was locked. Shomti looked instinctively up to the window above them, but it too seemed to be closed tight. At that fortuitous moment, Bentley radioed in on Sly's binocucom.

"You just have to take him on a job, don't you? Alright, alright. The way in is through an old wine cellar near the coast. I'll upload the coordinates to your binocucom. And you'll probably need Murray's help; I've sent him over there already, so don't worry. Now get going." Shomti looked at Sly, who panned across the horizon with his binocucom, finally stopping and putting it away when he found the wine cellar.

"Found it?" The raccoon nodded and started off across towards it silently, Shomti following just a bit more clumsily. Along the way, they encountered more guards, mostly of the flashlight variety, so they just avoided them. Once they did reach the cellar, they tried the door and found this one locked by a padlock. "Hold on, Sly. I can take this." Shomti said, pulling a paper clip out of his pocket and straightening it, holding it up for Sly to see.

"Ah, the universal lock-pick." Shomti smiled, pushing it in through the keyhole of the padlock, fiddling around with it. "Shomti, it takes hours' worth of hard-won skill and time spent picking locks in the field to actually open—" He was cut off by the lock popping open.

"I practiced a lot back in the world I came from. Nice to know padlocks here are identical to those in my hellhole. I mean, world." Shomti corrected himself quickly. Once inside, they found Murray hiding behind a post and cracking his knuckles.

"Hey, Sly. Shomti." He said, looking around the post to see if the guards had moved.

"Just us, huh? Fighting back to back to back." Murray nodded.

"Three guys, surrounded, fighting impossible odds... it's perfect!" Sly nodded, indicating to Murray that he should step forward and start fighting. Shomti looked back on when he had done this level in the game... he'd let Murray do all the killing. Now he ground his daggers against each other intimidatingly, sparks flying from the edges.

"Shall we dance, then?" Sly smiled, but stepped into the fray where Murray was already fighting without replying. So Shomti replied to himself. "We shall dance." Seeing that there were four guards left, he singled out one for himself and left the other three to Sly and Murray. He'd take out another if the need arose, but for now he circled the rat, acting like a duelist. The rat knew that if he made a move, Shomti could kill him easily. The rat also knew if he didn't make a move, Shomti would probably make one and it would become a battle of brawn, not brains. Shomti knew that as well, so he circled around the rat, holding his daggers up at the ready. After the other three guards were dead, the rat became impatient and charged. Shomti stepped out of the way of his strike, using the guard's own momentum to impale him in the stomach. However, because he had time to and because he was a nice guy, he bent down and slid one dagger into the rat's spine below the base of the neck before withdrawing it quickly. He turned to Sly.

"That makes three, doesn't it, Shomti?" The fox nodded, cleaning his daggers off on the dead body at his feet. "What time is it?" Shomti looked down at his wrist, seeing the bronze watch he'd obtained from his first guard.

"About midnight, if this is right." Sly shrugged.

"Sounds about right." He said, turning and continuing on. Shomti pulled a few coins out of the dead rat's wallet, slipping them into his own. Looking up, he saw Sly double jump over the gateway that blocked them. Shomti, knowing he couldn't double jump, decided to get creative to find the answer. Seeing the stack of barrels next to the fence gave him an idea, and he smashed the small one on top of the larger one by throwing it aside. Jumping up onto it, he propelled himself from there over the fence with greater ease and without looking idiotic by climbing over the fence. Sly raised his eyebrows at the fox.

"I can't double jump; climbing makes me look untrained... I choose option C: Get creative." Sly shrugged and nodded.

"I'll teach you to double jump later, if you want." Shomti nodded, and Sly continued ahead, Shomti trailing behind. When they reached the lasers, Shomti looked at them nervously while Sly simply walked right through without even pausing. Turning around, he saw Shomti hesitating. "Look, just wait for the opening and step through as though the lasers hot enough to melt flesh off bone weren't even there, okay?" Shomti glared at him, and jumped through far faster than he needed to as soon as he got the chance. As he approached the next laser field, he picked up a card from the table and stuck it into the path of the laser beam. It was melted into two pieces, and Shomti raised an eyebrow, ducking under the table where he'd found the playing card to avoid the searing heat.

Sly followed his lead, and soon they were up to the guard they needed to dodge around using the same maneuver. Shomti bit his lip nervously, and dove under the table silently. Underneath it, he could see the light from the guard's flashlight, and dragged himself quickly and silently along the floor. As soon as he emerged, he plunged his left hand dagger into the guard's neck so it didn't, and may still not, know it had been killed. He muttered to himself. "Four..." Then raised his voice to taunt the guard ahead, who was swiveling his flashlight beam back and forth. "Hey, you! Stupid! You blind? I'm right here!" He said loudly, tossing the dagger in his right hand up into the air before throwing it. It hit its mark, plunging easily into the guard's forehead. "And five." Sly raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're certainly taking a liking to this, aren't you?" The fox nodded, chuckling. He retrieved his dagger and continued on to the ventilation shaft. He motioned for Sly to go first, and Sly knelt, crawling through it rapidly. Shomti, who didn't do so well with enclosed spaces, took a breath before repeating Sly's actions, though progressing through the vent fairly slower and more clumsily. When he emerged, he moved forward and watched Sly proceed to kick the guard headlong into the yellow laser fence that was blocking their path. As he was chopped into little bits, the laser field disappeared. And, due to the extreme heat the lasers possessed, there was no blood among the pieces of flesh on the floor. So Shomti had no problem stepping right over it without even caring that those little pieces of flesh once were a person. The red lasers a few feet in front of him, those he cared about. He paused, picking a finger up from the floor and dropping it in the path of the red lasers. It instantly burned into two pieces, acrid smoke rising from it. The same as was rising from the rest of the guard's body. Shomti shuddered, and stepped through along with Sly at just the right moment to avoid being cut to little, itty-bitty pieces like the unfortunate guard behind them. Ahead, there was a guard patrolling the walkway, and another set of yellow lasers. Shomti silently spun the dagger through the air, and it met its mark in the guard's throat.

As he walked forward nonchalantly, he pulled his dagger out of the guard's throat, carving a vague "6" shape into the lifeless brow. In the next room, he saw a bunch of rats patrolling the area, and heard a voice crackle over his binocucom. He pulled it out. Bentley was talking to him.

"Shomti, you're getting a lot better at this. But be careful, if you take out one of those guards, the others are going to hear something. Ask any assassin, it's tough to take out an entire room of guards without being noticed. I suggest you avoid the guards altogether; neither you nor Sly are any good at fighting in big brawls. Creep around them, and if you do get in a fight, take on one at a time but make sure you don't let anyone sneak up behind you." The fox nodded, and put away his binocucom. He looked at Sly, who was already sneaking around the room stealthily, and he too began to make his way around the rats. None of them had seen the pair of thieves as Shomti cut the ventilation shaft off its screws and climbed in, scrambling to the end. Sly, noticing his panic within the shaft, looked at him when they got out.

"You know, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you were claustrophobic or something." Shomti looked at him and growled slightly. "Oh... I get it. Sorry." Shomti sighed and shook his head, pulling out his binocucom and zooming in on the generator before him, snapping a photo of it. Then, seeing a bit of paper on it, he zoomed in even further and chuckled, snapping another picture.

"Oh, wow... "Please do not blow up"? What an idiot..." He said, zooming in on the tailfeathers, letting Sly worry about snapping a photo of the ugly lizard. "Sly, I got a photo of his machinery, you get one or two of the boss."

Sly nodded, zooming in on him, and pulling the trigger on his binocucom to snap a photo of Dimitri, then getting one more for good measure. He put away his binocucom, and Shomti crawled back into the ventilation shaft to get back to the safehouse and give the pictures to Bentley so he could construct his slide show.

"Sly, do you ever pay attention during Bentley's presentations?" Sly turned around, a funny look on his face.

"You haven't been here very long... how did you know about them?" Shomti shrugged.

"Bentley told me. Said he suspected you and Murray didn't really pay attention. Do you?" Sly made sure his binocucom was off before replying.

"Well, confidentially, I pass notes to Murray during them. Feel free to join us this time, if you'd like." Shomti smiled.

"Happy to. Lead the way, Master Thief." Sly nodded gratefully, accepting his dubbed title, and climbing into the air vent. Shomti, shuddering as he forced himself back into it, scrambled through it as quickly as he could. When he emerged, they took the same route back through the area to return to the safehouse, where they gave their binocucoms to Bentley. He, in turn, put the pictures into his computer and proceeded to formulate a plan. Sly, knowing how long it might take, tapped the turtle on his shoulder.

"While you're doing that, Bentley, would you mind it if we went out and got some food? We'd take you, but you're a bit... caught up in your work at the moment. And you'd say no if we asked anyway." Bentley nodded, not looking up from the blueprints which Shomti didn't remember him having, and continued to mutter to himself. Sly looked at Murray and Shomti, shrugging. Shomti looked fearfully at Murray.

"Murray's not going to be driving... right?" Sly smiled cunningly, and Murray frowned.

"What's wrong with my driving?" Shomti growled.

"It knocked me out. Twice. And it could kill a cockroach simply from the shaking." Murray's lower lip started jutting out and wobbling.

"Well... we were escaping then... and..." Sly put a hand over Shomti's mouth before the fox could say anything more.

"I'm sure he appreciates you having gotten him where we were going in one piece... Or, less than five pieces, at least. Better than I did when I first let you drive. Come on, let's get some Chinese." Shomti smiled broadly underneath Sly's hand.

"Ife fwruff fffinevfe!!" Sly raised an eyebrow, and his paw from Shomti's mouth. "Translated version: I love Chinese! And, Sly...? I'm pretty sure I'm still in one piece. Not counting the hair I pulled out due to my stress originating from wondering whether I was going to get here in aforementioned singular piece. Less than five is an accurate summation, though." Sly had a perplexed look on his face.

"You're talking like Bentley. Let's just get in the van and go for Chinese, before he tries to discover more about your parallel dimension." Shomti shrugged.

"Well, it's not parallel if you can get from here to there... Hey! Where're you going? I'm hungry too!" He said as Sly and Murray jumped into the van and drove off, leaving him to mumble to himself like Bentley was doing. Fortunately, Bentley wasn't completely inhospitable.

"Shomti, I need your help. You see, we've got some intelligence on Dimitri, but not a lot... what should we do?" Shomti thought back to what he did in the game, and his eyes lit up as he remembered.

"What we're gonna do is this... we need to go out and gather some intelligence on Dimitri, right? Okay. Obviously, we should bug his office while he's out, and we should probably also tail him. We can learn a lot by observing him. Now, I recommend you get Sly to replace a photograph in his office with a bugged one after he leaves, and I can follow him. Then we can look at what we've got to do to get in at the Tailfeathers." Bentley nodded, jotted down some notes, then picked up the phone.

"Come on Shomti, let's order some pizza to eat while I create my slide show. And, if you wouldn't mind, you could talk about your own world..." Shomti shrugged.

"It's not really mine, it's just where I started out. This is where I'm supposed to be. I never did really like that place..." Shomti said and shrugged. Bentley looked at him as if he expected him to continue after hanging up the phone. "Well, it's big, over-polluted, overrated, and without honor. I don't think even one proper thief even exists there anymore, and geniuses are considered mentally dumb. And beside that, any nice person is shunned. I'm actually both, and look at me. I have been rejected by those who have been avoided and hated since the third grade. Only a couple of people have actually ever really liked me. But now I'm living my dream out, a master assassin for a gang of honorable thieves in an alternate universe nobody from the other world can follow me into." Bentley shrugged, his shell rising upwards around his neck. Just then, the doorbell rang. Bentley, opening up his laptop, saw that the pizza guy had arrived and went to open the door. When he did, he looked at the small pizza that had arrived and shrugged.

"If that's your size small, I should have ordered a medium. But there's only two of us, so we should be able to manage." The gecko shrugged and held out his hand. Bentley remembered that the little lizard had to drive pretty far to get there, seeing as most restaurants in Paris were decidedly not pizzerias, and pulled out a very generous handful of coins and handed it to him. Shomti, walking up behind Bentley, went nearly as wide eyed as the gecko did.

"How come I don't get that much money? I should deliver pizzas to you a few times, then retire at the age of sixteen. Bentley chuckled and shut the door, opening the pizza box. Steam rose from it, and Shomti smiled. "Cheese pizza? You normally get plain cheese?" Bentley nodded.

"I want vegetarian pizza, Murray wants huge heaping piles of meat, and Sly just wants to have normal pepperoni and olives... So Shomti, in your opinion, what would be the best way to get around the speed of light limiting factor?" Shomti chuckled.

"It's the same here as it is in my own world... People don't see the forest for the trees. If you travel faster than the speed of light, what happens?" Bentley frowned.

"You end up where you're going before you leave." Shomti nodded. "But that's the whole problem, it's a limiting factor. You can't go faster than the speed of light because of it."

"To get around the light speed problem, you go faster than light. A machine that does that is a time machine, because it can change the direction it moves in time. The problem is the solution. The only problem is, matter cannot sustain that sort of stress. Things deteriorate at the speed of sound, let alone faster than the speed of light. If you want to do that, I suggest you leave it to the physicists. Or someone who's trained for it. I'm just a kid." Bentley's mouth was agape.

"Okay... moving on. How'd you get here?" Shomti chuckled.

"A psychic technique, as confusing to explain as the one that I use to turn the cold I feel to warmth despite that it truly is cold. You wouldn't understand; you're a man of science and physics, not ideologies and psychokinetics." Bentley, once again, was amazed at the child's intellect.

"Once again, moving on. How do you know all this?" Shomti shrugged.

"Wisdom is gained through living. Knowledge is gained through being taught by someone with wisdom. Logic cannot be gained, but can often substitute for both. If you are born without it, though, neither wisdom nor knowledge can fully replace it." Bentley was left speechless, and decided just to start eating his pizza. "Don't know what to say? Don't say anything." Bentley shrugged, and did just that.

When Sly and Murray returned, Shomti was having a nice chat with Bentley on the nature of the fourth dimension.

"Good morning, Sly. Ready for the slide presentation? Bentley and I finished it while you were gone... I added some elements that I think you might enjoy. We'll go over it tomorrow morning, then maybe again in the evening before we leave to do the jobs." Sly nodded as he yawned and walked to his room, waving Shomti into it. Shomti followed him and laid down on the floor, closing his eyes and falling asleep using his hands as a pillow. Tomorrow would start the real trial of his skill...


	3. Final Preparations

III

Last Preparations

Shomti woke up the next day and found Sly getting changed into his street clothes. He noted the raccoon's lithe physique, similar to his own and apparently one sign of a master of stealth, and got up. Even after having seen him without it so many times, Shomti still couldn't get over how different Sly looked without his mask. He didn't understand why Sly wore it... until he saw Sly without it. It was strange, like looking at a person who normally wears glasses after they get contacts. Same thing with Murray and his helmet... it just didn't feel right. Shomti, having his only set of clothes, didn't have to change, and walked out, followed by the newly-clothed Sly. Bentley was already up, and in his own street clothes. Or rather, disguise. He looked like an old professor, and he was tinkering with the projector. Murray was dressed up at the moment like a large tourist. Sly contrasted them both with his own clothing, which was a black sweatshirt emblazoned with a red pentagram and some really loud, heavy pants covered in chains; apparently he was the goth teenager dragged along with the tourist and professor to France. Shomti stuck out like a sore thumb, having just his jeans and T-shirt to wear. Bentley, looking at him, shrugged.

"Not our best disguise to blend in that we've done with you, Shomti, but we have to keep changing it. Carmelita would be sure to notice if we didn't." Shomti raised an eyebrow.

"Carmelita's here?" He said, confused. She wasn't supposed to show up for a while yet. Bentley nodded, and started the projector.

"Due to the fact that he's the one that helped me with most of this presentation, I'm letting Shomti direct this presentation. The next one is all mine, though, Shomti." Shomti nodded, and sat down at the laptop before him, opening up the presentation. The first slide showed a picture of Dimitri picking his nose. Shomti clicked a tool on the slide show window, and drew a large yellow arrow to the disgusting lizard.

"He's the boss of this operation. Unfortunately, though Murray is quite strong, we can't just charge this place. It's got guards pretty much everywhere..." A picture of the nightclub bathroom showed up next as Shomti clicked the button. He waited for Sly and Murray's laughter to die down. "Except here. But that doesn't really help us, unless one of you feels the call of nature during an inside job." He clicked the next button. There was a picture of a warthog guard being incinerated by a spotlight gun after the nightclub hours. Shomti once again had to wait for the laughter to stop.

"This is what will inevitably happen. Spotlights," He clicked the next button to show a rat getting fried by a laser field. "Lasers," He clicked once more and showed a cage dancer gesturing to whoever was taking the picture. In this case, it was Sly, as the little icon in the corner indicated. "And these people are everywhere. They make a direct approach... Well, it'll end up like this guy." He showed a picture of a guard that was in the process of realizing that the raccoon on the other side of the laser fence was trying to lure him into running forward to his doom... The realization came just a little late, though, as he was burning to a crisp.

"So then... What I recommend we do is gain some more knowledge of the area, through a bug in Dimitri's office." He clicked the next button, and the head of a fly appeared on the screen. "Wha-? No, no... A **bug**. Like, an eavesdropping device." He admonished the machine, and a picture of a... Well, a picture. A picture of a picture appeared on the screen.

"Much better. Bentley has bugged this painting, and Sly will plant it in Dimitri's office once he leaves. And also during that time, I shall tail the ugly little bugger." He said, another picture of the revolting lizard appearing onscreen. Shomti drew a devil's tail on him, and took a bow as he shut off the projector. "Now then... who feels like seeing the Eiffel Tower? Again?" Applause surged through the room, and Shomti handed the laptop back to Bentley.

Bentley nodded, and set the laptop down as they left the safehouse to go see the sights of Paris... again. When they returned, it was dark and Sly's gothic makeup was coming off. There was a story behind that, actually...

"Fifty coins says Sly won't be able to resist this." Shomti said to Bentley. They were standing in what appeared to be a carnival that had arrived that day on the side of Paris farthest from their safehouse. Bentley looked up at him.

"If you have fifty coins, it's on." Shomti chuckled.

"I've got more than that; you'd be surprised what you can find in the wallets of guards slain for a noble cause. I once found a comb inset with diamonds. Beat that." Bentley chuckled.

"Back to the wager. So, let me get this straight. You bet that when Sly catches up, he will automatically take the challenge? You won't do anything to talk him into it?" Shomti shrugged.

"I might tell him about it, but, no. I won't talk him into it; won't have to." Bentley shook the fox's hand in agreement. The challenge they were talking about was a big water tub with golden coins and things strewn about the bottom. There was a slightly out of breath carnival employee shouting at the top of his lungs that whoever could collect them all in a time limit could keep them. Of course, it would cost you to try, but half of the loot from former people who tried was added to the tank. So Sly would not be able to resist it. He was very good at getting things.

True to his nature, as soon as Sly walked past the big tank, he did a double-take at the diver who was desperately grabbing at the gold and what it was he was trying to grab. His eyes widened, knowing he would regret it his whole life if he passed up the challenge, and instantly grabbed the coin purse from Bentley's hands and stepped up as soon as the previous diver came up practically empty handed. The carny sighed, and thumped the patron on the back, dislodging the loot and sending it back into the tank.

"I think I'd like to take a try at cleaning out your tank. The charge is what? A hundred, two hundred coins? Here." He said, pulling a handful of coins that was probably too much and handing it eagerly to the carnival worker. The surprised ape set it down and motioned to the tank.

"From how eager you are, you must be a kleptomaniac or something." Sly smiled.

"Oh, am I? Okay, whatever you say. Hey, do you have a bag that I can use to carry this stuff after I get it all out?" The ape shrugged, busy counting the money that Sly had given him. Since he was busy, Sly grabbed the stopwatch, hit start, and dropped it as he dove headfirst into the tank, anchoring himself with his feet on the edges and grabbing up as much loot as he could.

Needless to say, when he won, the carny was a bit surprised and disappointed, but supplied him with a large sack anyway. Shomti tapped Bentley on the arm, and the turtle reluctantly counted out fifty coins and handed them to the youth. Sly noticed this, and laughed as he handed the rather large cloth bag to Murray to carry.

"I think I was just the object of a bet, Murray." Murray shrugged and continued devouring the turkey leg that was bigger than Sly's left leg. "Where'd you get that, Murray?" The hippo shrugged.

"I don't remember. Besides, I don't think you could eat a whole one. You might have to split it with Shomti. And Bentley. And maybe me, even." Sly shrugged.

"Just wondering, Murray." He didn't mention the small spider crawling down Murray's arm, probably from the large poultry leg. Murray found out later; a rather sharp bite in a decidedly unpleasant spot made him aware. And Sly, dripping wet, accompanied the tourist and professor in his goth disguise.

Now, if you've ever worn makeup, (I'm proud to say that, as a self-respecting male, I haven't) I'm fairly sure it comes off when you get it wet. And I'm sure you noticed that goths almost always wear makeup. Same with Sly and his disguise as a goth; don't ask me how an anthropomorphic raccoon would wear makeup, but he did, ok? And it was coming off because he got it wet. That's the short version of the (to me) rather entertaining story I just told you.

Anyway, once they got back into the safehouse, Sly rushed to the bathroom to wash the running makeup off and get changed out of the decidedly un-stealthy clothing. Bentley calmly went to his room to change out of the itchy fake mustache. And Murray completely forgot he was wearing a disguise, then remembered and went into his own room to pull on his gloves and his scarf. Shomti, being the only one who didn't have to change, saw Bentley's laptop tantalizingly sitting open. He looked at the door Bentley went into, and then sat down, looking at the ThiefNet website URL and memorizing it. Then, getting up, he found a sticky note and wrote something on it before sticking it to Bentley's door. When Bentley emerged, he didn't notice it, and saw Shomti strapping a pair of leather sheaths to his forearms.

"Heh, you could have told me that they **were** for my forearms after all." He said, feeling the pommel of his daggers fondly as he flipped them out of the sheaths with a quick wrist motion. "Very smooth action, but I can improve on it nonetheless. Nothing is perfect. Those three words pretty much sum up the universe, wouldn't you agree Bentley?" The turtle nodded, and Sly emerged from the bathroom, now wearing his mask and carrying his cane, which he must have put there knowing he would change out of his disguise in the bathroom to wash off his face. As he pulled his navy blue hat over his head and patted it down, Shomti practiced drawing and sheathing his blades quickly and smoothly. He looked at Sly.

"I trust you know what we're doing?" Sly nodded.

"I take this painting into Dimitri's office, take the original and then bring it back here. I have something in mind for it." Shomti smiled.

"I see you paid attention... And I'll be following that ugly, scaly, purple, French bugger." Sly chuckled a bit at Shomti's vehement disgust, then composed himself. "So, what, do we synchronize watches or do we just go out there and do what we do best?" Sly's eyebrows went up.

"What, you spent a lot of time following people?" Shomti nodded simply.

"I earned the nickname Stalker a while back. I find it funny to watch people react when they turn around and see me there for the fifteenth time." He said, slipping the dagger blades back where they went. "Alright, let's get moving." He pulled the safehouse door open and headed out to the boat where he had to start the job. As he did, he avoided a few guards and knocked one out with a tap on the head with the curve of the hook on his right-hand dagger. Once he did reach the boat, he pulled his left hand dagger out and held it by the blade and swung it hard, the sound of the bell ringing vibrating through the air and shaking his chest to a point where he found it hard to breath. He quickly jumped back onto the roof of the boat, and soon Dimitri emerged from the cabin of his little boat. He looked around a bit, and then started walking. Shomti followed him, keeping to the rooftops.

When Dimitri took a turn that required Shomti to cross the paths of a guard, he groaned softly and tried to jump over its head. It didn't quite work, and he landed right in front of it. Noticing that Dimitri hadn't seen or heard him, Shomti quickly flipped out his knifes and made a scissor cut across the poor warthog's throat, blood gushing out but not to the point of getting more than Shomti's blades wet. He shrugged and cleaned the daggers on the guard's lapel before running after Dimitri quickly. He found Dimitri standing outside a door by the coast, obviously trying to remember the combination to the door. Shomti pulled out his binocucom from his precarious perch on a wire over the water, and when Dimitri finally opened the door he snapped a picture of the combination pad and the screen above it, flashing the combination. He checked to make sure that it got a picture of what the combination was, and then returned to the safehouse.

He took a route that avoided the bloody guard.

By the time he got there, he saw Sly leaning on his cane, examining the painting he'd just stolen.

"Sly, how did you do that so fast? That would have taken me quite a long time." Sly shrugged and smiled.

"Well, now we're ready to send this out to Raithe along with your picture." Shomti smiled, then turned to Bentley.

"Do you have enough information to get a plan together on your own, or do you need my help? Because I see how we can get in." He said. The turtle waved him away, asserting that he wanted to do it himself. Sly was busy writing a letter to the fox that had let him through the security line, and who had actually indirectly made Shomti's transformation possible. Murray was trying to choose a movie to watch, and having a hard time of it. He couldn't choose between a comedy or an adventure, so Shomti sat down next to him and picked the comedy for him. Murray nodded and smiled, agreeing happily as he sat down with a five gallon bucket of popcorn. Shomti raised an eyebrow and put the movie into the VCR. This could take a while.

By the end of the movie, Sly was sitting and laughing with them, and even Bentley had joined them after he had finished figuring out what he was going to do and putting it into a presentation. Shomti chuckled, and shut the T.V. off as he turned toward the projector.

"You gonna show us that presentation now?" Shomti asked Bentley. The aforementioned turtle nodded and walked over to the also aforementioned projector. As Shomti made himself comfortable, Sly sat on one side of him and Murray on the other. As the presentation started, he remembered that Murray hadn't destroyed the waterpump in the room he had found the combination to, and wondered how that would affect the presentation.

He soon found out, seeing a picture of Murray delivering an uppercut to a guard's jaw.

"Murray, I've discovered that beyond the door where Dimitri unwittingly gave us access is their water pump. It supplies water to the fountain. If you can get in there and destroy it, our plan will be that much closer to completion." He clicked a button to the next slide. "But that's not all we'll have to do. Sly will have to..." Shomti stopped paying attention when he felt a nudge on his left side. He looked down, and saw Sly handing him a small note. He was fairly sure it wasn't for Murray, since it had his name on it, so he opened it up. In the poor lighting, he could just barely make out what it said. Luckily he'd gotten lots of exercise to the light-collecting cones of his eyes that were necessary for this feat, so he was able to read the spidery handwriting. "Congrats on your first real job alone; I botched mine up pretty bad back at the orphanage. You're going to be" Shomti looked puzzled, and flipped it over. The message ended. He looked at Sly questioningly, then found Sly writing out the next part of the note. Bentley was nearly done with his presentation when Shomti read the last bit of his note and smiled. "A master thief, well worthy of the name Cooper. Too bad you have to be born into that name." Shomti looked up at the raccoon who had passed him the note and saw him nod. Bentley, unwittingly having continued his conversation to the three people, clicked forward onto the last slide.

"Trust me, it's all part of the plan." He said, drawing an "X" over both the eyes of the peacock sign depicted. Shomti nodded, and looked at Sly. He whispered a question into his ear; "What do I do, again?" Sly shrugged.

"Sly, Shomti, if you want to whisper, you can share it with us, right?" Sly shrugged once more, this time to Bentley.

"Sorry, Bentley, Shomti was just asking me what he does right now. He must not have been paying attention during the slide show." Shomti growled, but not loud enough for Bentley to hear. Bentley, however, glared at Sly too.

"Sly, if you were paying attention you might have noticed that Shomti wasn't given anything to do; I left him out. His skills aren't needed yet. I'm going to find a way into the nightclub to bring down the disco ball, Shomti will be left to do what he pleases, you will get into the theater and override the spotlights so I can destroy the security systems of the printer room at my leisure, and Murray will destroy the alarms around town along with the water pump. Obviously, because Shomti was paying attention, he didn't know what to do and asked you. And because you didn't pay attention you tried to blame it on him." Bentley said, chuckling to himself as he saw Sly puzzled by the logic of the turtle, who turned back towards Shomti.

"I recommend you just go out on the town; you know, see the nightclub as a visitor not a thief. Or maybe get some food somewhere else. You look a bit stressed, and that's not going to help during the heist." Bentley said, and Shomti walked out as he transferred the daggers on his forearms to his waist. He was going out as a citizen, not a thief, so he of course couldn't keep them where they were. Once he got out there, he leaned back and felt the night breeze blowing through his fur, relaxing like Bentley had told him to. It was very refreshing, and he decided upon going to the nightclub to get to know the Parisian people. Of course, he didn't speak French, but that didn't occur to him. He looked around for the distinctive dome and peacock sign and, when he didn't find them, he just shrugged and walked off in a random direction.

Several dead ends later, he decided it would be better if he got up on a rooftop to survey the area. He looked around; he was in front of a Hotel. If he really, really tried he could wonder why the sign was in English, but he was rather occupied with finding out where to go. He was navigationally challenged, and so was having a hard time of getting where he was going. When he climbed on top of a car and bounced off the sunshade that was there and out for no apparent reason, it being nighttime, he landed on the outdoors eating area of the hotel. There was nobody there, and he walked forward a bit to get a grasp on his surroundings, perhaps spy the large, lit up dome of the nightclub.

When he heard a sound like a person falling and landing gracefully behind him, he realized that was exactly what had happened and turned around to find out who it was. Behind him, a purple striped cat donning a whip had crossed her arms.

Moonlight Rendezvous.

"Oh, it's you, Neyla." He said, trying his best to keep any hostility out of his voice. He crossed his arms, similar to her; however, the purpose of this action was not to appear haughty but instead to get his paws closer to his weapons. "Sorry you couldn't get a hold of Sly, but you got me. And I'm nearly as good. Since he's busy, I'll have to do, won't I?" Neyla raised an eyebrow.

"I don't recognize you being in his gang... I shall have to take this matter up with Carmelita. But I'm not here to arrest you, since it seems that's what you thought." Shomti smiled and sarcastically chuckled.

"Why, thank you so very much. Here to help? How touching. And what might be your ulterior motives for that?" Neyla sighed and seemed to look irritated.

"I'm not as black and white as Carmelita." Shomti chuckled.

"No, you're purple." She narrowed her eyes, and cut her monologue short. "So, it takes a thief to catch a thief?"

"Sort of... Well, yes. But before I help your petty little gang, I want to make sure you can keep up... Literally." She said before turning and dashing off. Shomti shook his head and pursued her as she ran. Fortunately, she was rather slow compared to him and she also knocked any guards or obstacles out of the way when they ran. He thought it was incredibly stupid of her to do so, but if she wanted to she had the right to. He wasn't complaining.

When they did finally reach the gate to the final area where they were going, Shomti jumped onto the car after her, balanced on the fence, then leaped forward and landed on the same rope as she did to run across unnoticed by the guards just a few feet below.

When she jumped off, he propelled himself off the rope and landed farther away than she did, leaning against the wall.

"I think I won. Any prizes?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"Not bad... I have recently acquired a key to this door into Dimitri's nightclub. Now, legally I can't enter without a warrant. However, a person like yourself could use this key however he wanted." Shomti nodded and took the key wordlessly. "Say... Wait... Would your name happen to be Shomti?" Shomti flinched when the name was spoken, his hair standing on end.

"How'd you know my name?" Neyla's eyes narrowed and she let her whip drop to the ground.

"I have connections... Even where you come from. Now, legally, I can't do anything to you right now..." She said, pulling the arm with the whip back. Shomti sensed trouble and stuffed the key in his pocket, leaping back as she swung the whip at him so it only connected with his foot. He yelped in pain, landing flat on his back, and looked up at the cat above him.

She glowered as she stepped forward and placed her own, unmarred foot on his chest. As he struggled below her, she lowered a paw down to enclose his throat. She couldn't see behind her as he reached for his dagger, sliding it out of its sheath.

"Now, I think you don't have a choice. I don't know how you managed by sheer luck to appear in the museum, instead of our base, but now that you're here you're a threat. And threats should be eliminated. You'll never be able to stop me." Shomti closed his eyes and opened them again, starting to laugh.

"Here's a word of advice... When you're grinding someone's chest into the ground and crushing their windpipe... make sure they aren't armed next time." He said, swinging his dagger upwards, the blade sliding along her violet leg and cutting the flesh so the claret red blood welled up. It wasn't a spurt, but it certainly wasn't a drip; as it slid down her shin, Shomti rolled over to the side. The roll knocked out the other leg, and brought her crashing to the ground headfirst. Shomti didn't care, and ran away, learning how best to clean a blade while running; stab something like a pile of laundry and keep running.

When Neyla woke up, she had a headache to rival that of Shomti's after having joined the gang. I'm sure you remember that one.

Shomti, in running, somehow ended up at the safehouse. Seeing as he was simply taking random turns, that seemed quite a coincidence, so he pulled out his binocucom and radioed Bentley.

"Bentley, I've got a key that'll get you into Dimitri's back door. I'll set them on the table in the safehouse... yes, I'm fine. Neyla's helping us. Yes. No. Not sure. Two lefts and a right? No, I don't know. Whatever. Okay, then. I'll be at the nightclub, trying to learn French from some locals." He said, putting the binocucom on the table. He wasn't bringing it with him due to the fact that if Bentley radioed him, he could get arrested. Once more, he stepped out of the safehouse, but this time he knew where to go to find the nightclub. And this time, he walked like he owned half of France. Well, maybe just a house. But it did the trick; he wasn't seen. Well, maybe seen, but not noticed. And he didn't steal anything from any guards on the way... Well, okay, maybe he did. But he didn't get caught.

Anyway, when he did arrive at the front doors, he saw a guard stop another normal person and ask for identification. The warthog, not seeing the identification necessary, proceeded to literally kick out the small mouse. When Shomti walked up, he too was asked for an ID card. He reached into his back pocket and leaned in close to the guard's ear.

"You've got two choices. Neither of them end particularly badly for you. One of them is you don't let me in. I have no problem with that. The other choice, however, ends better for both of us. I get in, and you get to retire just a little earlier. You taking the hint?" The warthog grunted out an unsure affirmative. "Name a price." The warthog smiled and held up both hands, flashing the "Ten" sign five times. "Fifty coins it is." Shomti concluded, pulling about that amount from his back pocket. Of course, when the guard turned to put it in his pocket, he found that his wallet was missing, but Shomti was already gone by the time he made the connection. Fifty coins was more than was in his wallet when it was stolen, though, so he at least pulled a profit and decided not to go after Shomti.

Shomti was doing quite well, having found a few girls who knew some English. He was naturally starting to fit in, and people sort of made a little circle around him. He heard things in French that might have meant something about him speaking English, but he never took French class so he couldn't be sure for sure. And of course, one small mouse girl walked up to him and repeatedly asked him "Est-ce que je peux danser avec toi?". He eventually turned to her and just shrugged.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak French. Parlez-vous anglais?" He said, and because she shook her head, he shrugged. "Then I can't talk to you, I'm sorry." One of the girls near him decided that she could translate for him.

"She said "Can I dance with you?"." Shomti turned to his translator and shook his head.

"Tell her I can't dance to save my life." The vixen nodded and turned toward the mouse-girl.

"Il ne peut pas danser, sauver même sa vie." The girl looked disappointed and walked away. Shomti sighed, and looked around.

"Look, I'd love to talk, but I've got something to do. Really. I need to leave. Hey, um... could you possibly tell them to let me out?" The vixen, who was just a year younger than him, nodded and shouted at the crowd something else in French. They parted, and Shomti walked out. As he did, he motioned for the girl to follow him. "Thanks... Hey, have you ever heard of the name Sly Cooper?" The girl nodded.

"A few times... I think that he's a good thief and I should like to learn from him some things." Shomti nodded and motioned for her to follow him. As he walked away, the only slightly shorter vixen followed him.

"Just keep near me... Uh... What's your name, anyway? I'm sorry about my manners, but I don't believe you told me." He said, pivoting once more to face her, only to find she wasn't behind him. Puzzled, he swiveled his head around and found her right next to him on his left. "What're you doing there? Never mind; disregard the question. And why do you have a Californian accent?" He said, his eyebrows furrowing together and meeting. As a human, he'd had a slight monobrow, but now that he was a fox his eyebrows were simply darker strips of fur over his eyes and they didn't meet in the middle.

"My name is Sarah. And the reason I speak English so well is because I was taught it first, not French. Then we moved here, and I had to learn French." Shomti winced.

"That's even worse than me moving from New York to California. Well, okay, let's go. I have a bit of a treat for you... but you can't let anyone know that I showed you." He said, leading her to the double doors of the nightclub. However, before they got there, Shomti heard a loud _thud_, and just after that but before he had time to react, the shockwave passing through the ground reached him and Sarah and they were flung face first into the floor. Shomti, being talented, turned the startlingly fast drop into a prone fall (Gymnastics technique where you fall forward, but at the last second turn it into a push-up); Sarah, however, was not trained in gymnastics and simply landed on her face. Shomti, helping her up and brushing some dust off her shoulder, chuckled. "That, of course, was not it." Sarah glowered.

"You're not some sort of psychotic freak, just going to get me out in the streets and kill me, are you?" Shomti looked horrified. "Well, you've got the knives for it." Shomti shrugged.

"They're part of my uniform. Fine, I swear on my honor and/or lack thereof—" Sarah stopped him.

"What's that there for?" He was puzzled looking. "The "Lack thereof" part. What's it there for?" Shomti chuckled.

"Honor is respect from other people gained by doing the right thing. I don't have much of that, though I am rather honorable. So, I add the "lack thereof" bit, just in case I'm wrong about me having honor. Wouldn't want to get sued." He said. "May I continue?" She nodded.

"Right then. I swear on my honor and/or lack thereof that you shall not come to harm due directly to the actions I'm about to take. Alright then, now you can trust me. Of course, you might come to harm indirectly, but it won't be my fault... Oh bugger, I'm bleeding again." He said, looking down at his foot where Neyla got him with her whip. It was dripping crimson. "Long story. Don't ask, I won't tell you if you do." He said, examining it. It was a welt, but the whip apparently had very small blades every few inches, because he was bleeding from more than a few holes in his leg. "Just as well that she didn't get a chance to drag it." He muttered to himself.

"Well, then, shall we go?" He said a bit louder, jogging off at a reasonable pace and doing his best to take her on the most direct route to the safehouse. Once he reached it, he opened the door to reveal Bentley working on his laptop, probably on the next presentation; Murray watching a movie, a comedy from the laughing; and Sly, pressing buttons at random on the microwave to cook a five gallon container of popcorn for Murray.

"Welcome, to the safehouse of the Cooper Gang, which I am proud to be a part of. Come right in, if you feel like it. Sly, Bentley, Murray. Meet Sarah. Can we keep her?" Bentley glared. "Oh, come on. Let's let her stay for this heist, and if she wants to we can take her along for another." He said, looking at Bentley, knowing he was the one who would be the hardest to convince. Murray, of course, stood up and ran over immediately.

"Wow, Bentley, she's like... a third my size! Watch, watch." He said, stomping the ground and catching the surprised vixen out of the air.

"Murray!" Shomti said loudly. "Put her down." He said, growling. Sly and Bentley were laughing so hard that Shomti was drowned out, however, so Murray ran back to the couch and plonked her down next to his spot, which was recognizable by a large indent in the sofa, and a leaning of the backrest due, according to stories Shomti heard, to the fact that Murray didn't know the unfortunate furniture couldn't recline. Sarah nodded, smiling.

"That would be nice..." She said, a bit shaken by the fact she'd just been picked up by a large pink hippo. Bentley sighed.

"Fine... But her parents will be worried." Sarah laughed out loud.

"They won't even notice I'm gone for another week... They're somewhere in Asia, I think. They left for a business trip, both of them, and their only child had to stay here." Sly raised an eyebrow.

"Okay then. It's decided. Since your parents won't miss you for a while, you're with us. At least until this heist is done; then we can't really take you with us. Legal stuff, you know."

Shomti raised an eyebrow along with the other young fox.

"Legal?" Sly shrugged.

"I steal things, not kids." He said, looking at Bentley's laptop. "Are you done with that yet?" The turtle turned around and adjusted his glasses before looking up at Sly.

"I just got back from destroying a disco ball a few seconds ago. You really think I might be even the slightest bit near done?" Sly nodded sarcastically. "No." Shomti chuckled and looked around, then realized a problem with the situation.

"Where's Sarah going to sleep?" Bentley shrugged, then frowned and looked over the rim of his laptop, and everyone focused their vision on the sofa. "I guess it's a rite of passage; every new member has to fall asleep on a couch?" Shomti joked.

Everyone except Sarah started laughing, and Shomti told her it was an inside joke, then invited her to watch another movie with him while Bentley formulated his plan. Murray had completely forgotten about the comedy, and Shomti stealthily removed the tape and replaced it with another.

Murray kept getting the plotlines of the two movies mixed up.

Operation: Thunderbeak is coming... Well, maybe not soon, but eventually. Just, uh, keep checking up on it. I'll get it here before next year sometime, probably before May.


	4. A Waste of a First Kiss

I know, I know... I missed my deadline. What can I say? I got distracted with some emotional things, I got depressed, and I have state testing this week. But all the emotional stuff is over, I'm back to my happy self, and state tests were written by morons. Enjoy my far overdue chapter. And no, the name doesn't mean what you think... drumroll ensues Just wait and find out.

IV

A Waste of a First Kiss

When Shomti and the others finished the movie, they had gone to their rooms to sleep. All, of course, except Sarah, who stayed on the couch to sleep. As soon as Shomti entered Sly's room and closed the door, Sly turned around and smiled.

"Shomti's got a girlfriend! I say we bring her with us after the heist." Sly said, taking his hat off and setting it down on his bed. Shomti growled at him, removing his shirt.

"Oh, drop it. She can't come with us. Even I can tell that. Besides, she's even younger than I am, and she doesn't seem that stealthy. I just brought her here because you're her hero, the same way you're mine." He said, brushing his fur. He wasn't sure why he brushed it before going to bed, but it made him feel better. Sly chuckled and pulled his sweatshirt over his head.

"Sure you did. Anyway, you're right, I'm sorry. I know she can't come with us, but I still say we ought to bring her." Shomti muttered, crumpling up his shirt and laying down on it. "Hey, you want to read the Thievius Raccoonus with me tonight? I know it'll help you; there was an ancestor of mine who declared himself not a thief, but an assassin." Shomti instantly stood up again.

"Is Murray pink?" He said. Then, when he noticed Sly about to answer, he chuckled. "That's a rhetorical question with the meaning of "Hell Yeah"." Sly nodded slightly, and shrugged as he deactivated the security system around the Thievius Raccoonus and pulled it off its pedestal.

"Alright then... Here we go. The Cooper known only as Wraith was famous as an assassin, and was rumored to be able to kill anyone. Fortunately, he didn't use that ability often. At the age of fourteen, he changed his use-name to Wraith because he was impossible to see coming until you felt the cold steel of his scythe-cane around your throat about to behead you. He found a way to actually see in total darkness; the only ability I haven't learned from this book yet. Here's what he wrote around it." Sly said, passing the book to Shomti. The fox took the book, and looked at the page it was open to. It had a picture of two eyes with vertically slit pupils. Shomti was puzzled, because while foxes and cats had slit pupils, raccoons did not.

The article described how to dilate the pupil even faster than normal, but the eyes still sort of spooked Shomti. He read over the article twice or so, then handed the book back to Sly.

"Well... That will probably help me. One question: Why are there slit pupils in those eyes? Raccoons don't have slit pupils." Sly shrugged.

"Wraith was born with a genetic deformity, and was very enigmatic. His eyes were slit, and yellow besides." Shomti blinked and looked at the mirror, where his own yellow eyes contracted their pupils to a thin slit. Scary, to say the least.

"Well, let's see if this works..." Shomti looked at his reflection, into his eyes, then didn't focus on what he was seeing but on what he was seeing with. His pupils widened, and everything got much, much brighter. He yelped, and they contracted again as he fell backwards, his vision all greenish from the overload of light. Sly was instantly in front of him, looking at his friend's eyes.

The pupils were pulled nearly completely shut, and Shomti chuckled a bit despite the situation. That brought a smile to Sly's face; the younger thief was fine. He might not have been, though, if Sly's room had been lit brighter than it was.

"Well... Hehe... I don't believe I want to do that again... Let's go to sleep, Sly..." He said, dragging his eyelids down and pushing Sly away as he laid down. Sly, shrugging, got up, took his hat off, and climbed into his bed. Shomti couldn't see what he was doing, so he felt around for a few seconds, then he also shrugged and laid down to get some sleep. He was going to have to get lots of sleep before the heist.

As he slowly opened his eyes and yawned loudly, he noticed Sly had left silently already. It was only after seeing the empty bed that he realized he could see just fine; and that was probably due to the fact that he felt a sort of presence around him... Bentley had used voodoo to keep him asleep. It must have been at least five in the evening, and looking at the low back-light clock Sly kept in his room, he confirmed his theory.

He stood up, slowly, and stumbled out of the room, shaking his head clear of the fog. Apparently, everyone had gone out to do something or other, and there was a note on the refrigerator door. Shomti read it aloud.

"Shomti: We've gone out to see a couple of movies at the theater. I'm afraid Murray cleaned out the refrigerator, so there's no food left for you. But if you look in the cupboard directly to your left as you read this, I've left something for you to play with while we're gone. We'll be out till seven, so feel free to mess around with it." Shomti shook his head; it was Bentley who had written the note, he could tell from the handwriting. He just sighed and turned to his left, seeing a very large cupboard with a ribbon on it. The ribbon was pink; probably Sarah's hair ribbon because there wasn't bound to be any other ribbon around. He pulled it off and set it aside so he could give it back to her later, then opened the cupboard.

He expected to find something like a toy from a fast food restaurant, due to the fact that was pretty much all anyone ever got for him, but there was a big box there; it was a sort of dark reddish color, like a darker version of his own fur. Pulling the box out, he saw a symbol on the top: "TN". Obviously ThiefNet; looking back, he figured as much.

As soon as he opened the lid, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. There, sitting right on top, was a note from Sly. He picked it up, sighing, annoyed at the fact that he had to read it before looking at what he had received. At least it was short. "Hope it fits; I don't know your size, so I just used mine. You're about the same height." Shomti raised one eyebrow in confusion and set the note aside on the pile of many things he'd already set aside. Then, he finally got to look at what was in the box.

On top, there was a black mask, just like what Sly wore, but with somewhat shorter trailing ends. Below that, there seemed to be a set of clothes; he picked them up to examine them. What he grabbed was a neatly folded shirt with a crimson lightning bolt-shaped "S" over the heart. He smiled; it was obviously made to fit snugly and allow movement, judging from the material. Below that, he found a pair of black pants. They seemed to be cut from a lighter and less stretchy material than that of the shirt; the elastic waistband reminded him of the martial arts uniform bottoms he had worn back when he was a black belt. They cut off at the ankle, which he was grateful for, seeing as he found it rather impossible to walk with his pants continually under his feet. Besides that, there was a nice hole for Shomti's tail to emerge; he was rather irritated with the fact that his current clothes didn't have one of those. And at the very bottom of it all, a black hat to match. Inside the hat, he found a note signed by all three of the gang members; they all welcomed him into the Cooper Gang—formally, as Bentley put it—in their own words. He found a small bag of jellybeans in the corner of the box as well.

He chuckled, picking it up and setting it aside with the other stuff. Below it was a small note, scrawled on the bottom of the box. He was getting tired of all the notes, but he shrugged and decided to read it, leaning forward.

"Now, you didn't think you'd just get that, now did you? I've included something else for you... me and Sly decided it'd be very, very useful for you to have. But it must be about five twenty-three by now." Shomti glanced up; the turtle, as always, was right. "So enough chit chat. Directly behind you, if I know the way you do things, is a drawer. Open it, and turn to page fifty three, okay?" Shomti frowned heavily, very confused. But he did stand up, turning around and opening the indicated drawer. Inside was a large sheaf of papers that was held together with a series of staples; it could only have been Bentley who stapled them, because the formation used was completely stable, something only Bentley could really have done. Shomti looked at it; at the top was a very plain looking text title. He read it twice before figuring out what it meant: "Thievius Raccoonus: Edited and Revised" He simply chuckled, and opened to the designated page. It was very near the back of the photocopied book, and was covered in quickly scrawled sticky notes and little writings from all members of the gang. He laughed, reading a few that were dedicating the book (with Sly's own notes and experiences with techniques) to the next greatest master thief. Shomti, chuckling, shook his head and closed the book, putting it under his arm before picking up his new clothes and carrying the whole thing into Sly's room, where he changed into them, admiring the somewhat tight fit of the shirt.

And, for the first time in over six years, he felt comfortable wearing a hat. That may have had to do with the fact that it wasn't tight around his head, which his previous hats had to be to stay on when doing things like cartwheels. Or fighting. His new hat stayed on by means of the ear holes; they were a little tight, but not noticeably so. Only enough to support the hat.

Wearing this gear, of course, he felt like he ought to go and try it out and see how it worked in the field. So, he took a few looks at the revised Thievius Raccoonus to get a bearing on a few skills he hadn't acquired yet, and stepped outside for a bit of... pocket money liberation.

He wasn't entirely sure how to do it as he stepped outside, but he quickly figured out what he really had to do. The hooks on the end of his knives were pretty pointy; they could grab onto objects like leather wallets and pull them out, or loop around watches or other loot and pull them out in a similar manner. Soon, he'd acquired much more than his fair share of pocket money, and he was about to slide the hook of his right-hand knife into a warthog's pocket to fish out that unusually expensive looking comb when he felt his binocucom go off in his pocket. He shrugged and pulled it out, backing away from the guard.

"Hey Sly. You know, this pickpocketing... it's pretty useful. And I could definitely get used to these clothes. They fit great!" He said quietly, so a nearby frog wouldn't hear him. Sly smiled.

"Glad you like them. Personally, I'd never wear something black and red. It's all blue for me. But I thought you'd like it. Oh, um... I'm sorry, we sort of took Sarah back home already. She did put her her address on the inside of your hat, along with a message from me to you that if you're ever in Paris again you ought to stop by." Shomti nodded, and took of his hat to look inside of it, noting the address within. "Look, get back here, will you? It's time for the heist slide show, which I know we're both going to pay close attention to." This last he added sarcastically, and Shomti rolled his eyes.

"Isn't Bentley, like, right behind you?" Sly shook his head.

"Nah, he's over at his laptop. I'm in my room, supposedly reading the Thievius Raccoonus." Shomti shrugged, nonchalantly knocking a guard out as he walked past.

"Anyway, I'll be right there. I'm a little far away, so tell Bentley to start without me and I'll ask you when I get back." The image of Sly nodded, and flickered off. Shomti put away his binocucom and started his quick sprinting. His somewhat baggy pants, though they blew in the breeze, didn't slow him down. And they certainly didn't give him away, as the flapping sounded rather similar to a flag on a windy night. Security guards are rarely intelligent enough to make the correlation between that and the fact that the wind wasn't that fast.

So he didn't disturb any guards in the few minutes he was running for the safehouse. Once he got there, he found Sly twirling his cane, ready for action. Murray was punching his fists together; probably psyching himself up so as to be stronger for the heist. And Bentley was loading a few sleep darts into a cartridge attached to the side of his crossbow-style dart gun. Shomti, apparently, had missed the entire slide, and they were about to go out.

"Right, so... Just tell me what to do." There were a few awkward looks between the gang members, and Sly stepped forward.

"Uh... Shomti, you protect a truck we're going to use to pull down the sign. Bentley knows it's your first heist, so he doesn't want you to get hurt, you understand." Shomti raised an eyebrow.

"That's it? I protect a truck?" He said, turning to Bentley. The turtle nodded.

"You protect the truck. Like Sly said, I really don't want you to get hurt." Shomti sighed.

"As smart as Bentley, strong as Murray, and nearly as stealthy as Sly... and I have to protect the truck. Alright, then. I'll just... Protect the truck, then go pickpocket some guards, I guess. We might need some extra cash, maybe to buy a new truck if I can't do my job right." He said, fuming inside. He knew the guys meant well, but he also knew he could do much more than that. There wasn't really a challenge in protecting a truck from a few guards, even those with guns. Bentley sighed.

"Sorry, but we need you in one piece. As soon as we know exactly what you can and can't do, we can't really risk your life by setting you up for a big part of the heist. Not only might we lose you, but we might not get the tailfeathers either. You know what might happen then? Clockwerk might rise again, might kill Sly and the rest of us, and then what? Then the world falls under his control. I understand it's your first heist, but it's important." Shomti was about to protest, then sighed and nodded.

"Right. Well, are we going or not?" Shomti said, twirling his daggers around his fingers expertly. "I'm ready to protect me a truck." He said, smiling widely. "Mood swings" doesn't do him justice. Bentley shrugged, walking out the door. Shomti followed, and he and Sly proceeded to the front of the nightclub while Bentley and Murray went to stop up the water veins to the fountain. Sly, looking around for the guard who was going to fix the fountain any second now, was too busy to talk to Shomti. Shomti, too, wasn't really about to talk to him. It's not like they had anything to chat about; they had to get this right, no distractions. It was pretty easy in the game, but here one bullet could kill you. It's just how life worked; it worked the same back in his own world, obviously.

So, as he sat and waited for his task to roll past, he saw Sly pull the keys from the pocket of the guard who had shown up to fix the fountain, and he also saw him pass the keys off to Bentley. Soon enough, the truck rolled right up, and Shomti stood up as he was ready to do his job.

Right on cue, of course, the rats ran up, ready to try and take a whack at it. The first one stopped when, from nowhere, a fox dropped in front of him, a dagger in either hand and smiling threateningly.

"Alright... Let's begin." Shomti said as he grinned, admittedly, in a rather maniacal fashion. The rat, a bit surprised to have been stopped by what seemed to be a serial killer, was paralyzed. When Shomti flawlessly threw his dagger into the rat's head, the ones following him yelled what were probably French profanities as he dashed to retrieve the dagger he'd lost, slicing another rat across the chest and finishing it with a stab to the general area of the left breast. As soon as he pulled the now crimson blade free, he plunged it into another chest. He saw Murray break the neck of one rat with a single uppercut, and reasoned the rat had come around from the other side. He also saw Sly pull an opponent's leg with his cane, causing the unfortunate rat to go into the splits. The strain on his body knocked him out, and Sly dispatched him quickly by caving in his skull. His musings on the different battle tactics of his friends were broken by a sound behind him. It sounded a little bit like... Oh, no, not again.

He turned around, and sure enough there was Neyla, snarling at him, a whip in one hand. Shomti, of course, couldn't go after her, and just took his anger out on what happened to be, coincidentally, the last rat that tried to go after the truck. An elbow in the gut brought the rat's head down, and it was followed by a swift knee to the face which brought it back up again. Closing in on the rat, Shomti did a fast reverse spinning kick, easily breaking his jaw, then he knocked it to the ground with a hard jab at the chest with the blunt pommel of his dagger. After that, he slashed open the guard's throat and, finally satisfied, wiped the blood off his blade onto the guard's face. Sly, Murray, and Bentley were just looking at him with open mouths when he got up and surveyed his new clothes. There were no rips or tears; not bad, seeing as a few rats did get a bit close for comfort.

"What? I got a bit ticked off; thought he might have put a hole in my new shirt." He said, sheathing his daggers. "Get on with it, Bentley, so I can go back to the safehouse and play darts using my knives and a picture of Clockwerk." He said, his good mood thoroughly ruined by the appearance of Neyla; he knew he was going to fight her before the night was over. The turtle shook himself out of his daze, and climbed into the back of the truck. As he aimed the grapple, Shomti looked around and decided he wasn't needed.

As if he had read his mind, Sly put a hand on the fox's shoulder and shrugged.

"Sorry buddy, but that's all you can do. I'm going in to fight Dimitri alone. Be outside the safehouse in fifteen minutes, okay?" Shomti nodded, and turned around to run off. He saw Neyla, sitting on a building and waiting for him. Obviously, she couldn't blow her cover in front of Sly and the others, so she had waited until now.

Looking directly at the traitor, he casually scratched his face, then flipped up his middle finger to inspect the claw. In doing so, he nonchalantly flipped the tiger off. This blatant disrespect caused Neyla to snarl and drop silently off the building, motioning for him to follow her.

A look back at Sly catching the grappling hook told him everything he needed to know, and he walked off after the traitorous cat. Soon, he caught up with her and she let her the end of her whip drag along the ground threateningly. He, in turn, flipped out his knives and got into a very... Well, very vulpine stance. His legs were heavily bent and rather far apart, keeping his middle low to the ground. All of his weight was on his right leg, and the left was extended in front of him, barely touching the ground. To match, he kept his left hand out somewhat farther to strike, while his right was up protecting his face. The very look of it reminded you of something sneaky, about to strike from nowhere.

Neyla simply stood there with her whip and looked threatening. But Shomti wasn't stupid; if he rushed in now, he was sure to get a beating. Of course, he may not have been stupid, as he realize that, but he was pretty headstrong. He knew that he would get beat, but he decided to rush in anyway, dive rolling forward and cutting at Neyla's feet.

The agile tiger jumped over his blades, landing far behind him, and spun as she cracked her whip at him. He managed to push off the ground from where he was, performing a showy backflip, then spun and swung a single dagger at Neyla. This time, the blade made contact and scratched her arm, crimson dripping down her violet fur. It didn't stop her for long, but it was long enough for Shomti to step forward, drop his right-hand dagger so he could grab her hair, and hold his remaining knife against her throat.

"I won. I won't kill you, for the fate of the conquered is left to the victor and I know what would happen if you died, but that is not to stop me from doing this." He said, tossing the knife point first into the ground to the side of him and locking lips with her. As he lured her rough tongue out of her mouth, he bit it hard with a pair of his canines, leaving a hole. "Feel that pain? You deserve it. For what you've done, what you're doing, and what you will do." Neyla's eyes were slightly cloudy, but he could tell it wasn't from the pain of his bite. He looked at her, then glanced down to see if she was wearing a watch so he could tell what time it was.

She wasn't, but the squealing of tires on the road told him that he needed to get going. Apparently, something had taken longer than he thought. As Neyla started to move, he knocked her over distractedly with a quick push to the chest. And when he ran off down the alley, Neyla wiped the blood from her mouth dazedly. She had felt something during that kiss, but wasn't sure if Shomti had also felt it. It seemed as if he had done it simply to catch her off guard and give her a hole in her tongue. But she was incredibly surprised at the emotions welling up inside her. Now she didn't want to kill Shomti. She wanted to get him away from the Cooper Gang, yes, but she did not wish to see him dead. And as she pondered that, Shomti jumped into the back of the brightly painted getaway van and braced himself for Murray's driving.

Inside, Sly looked at Shomti and instantly noticed the lipstick stuck to the fox's face. He chuckled to himself, and motioned to him that he should wipe his face. Shomti, the insides of his ears turning red, did so and looked at Sly. The raccoon laughed.

"Uh... I think Neyla might like me." This rather obvious statement started the whole Gang cracking up. "I'm serious, guys!" He said, hiding his disgust for the traitor by acting disinterested.

"I know you are, Shomti. Already over Sarah, and not just that but flirting with the Constable of all people. Not even your species." He said, laughing. Shomti, shrugging, simply gave him a similarly blunt retort.

"Carmelita's not your species either." The van grew quiet. Shomti smiled, looking through his stapled up version of the Thievius Raccoonus. "It's true, you do like her. Even I can tell that, new to the Gang though I am." Sly chuckled and pulled out his own copy of the Thievius Raccoonus.

"So I do. Alright, Shomti, what do you want to go over now?" Shomti, remembering what he would need in India to get through to the palace, opened his book to a different page.

"I would like to learn the Spire Jump. Perfected by Rioichi Cooper of medieval Japan when sneaking into the heavily fortified fortresses found there." He said, pointing to a picture of the ninja thief. "Think you can teach me that?" Sly nodded.

"That's an easy one; the first move I learned. Basically it's the Rail Walk, but you're not going anywhere." He said, looking out the window. "You put your feet on the sides of whatever it is you're landing on and crouch. If you're going to be doing anything for a long period of time up there, you're also going to want your left paw down and on the very top of the pointy thing you're landing on, whatever it may be. I'll show you sometime." He said, looking at Shomti. The fox was nodding, and looking in the Thievius Raccoonus for other useful techniques that Wraith might have known. He didn't find any, however, and started studying up on other techniques. More applicable ones, such as the ability to speed up time. That was sure to be good for these long drives, but he couldn't find a way to do it. He was too easily distracted; oh well.

"So... Where are we going now?" He said, putting the book down. As he waited for an answer, he saw a sign go by the window. "Oh, Monaco. Sounds good then. I've always wondered what Monaco was." He said, leaning back. Sly raised an eyebrow, turning around in his chair.

"You don't know what Monaco is?" Shomti shook his head, and Sly started cracking up. "Not only does it have a wonderful casino, but it also has the most police proportionate to size in the world. Plus, it's pretty small and very indistinguishable from France. I think Bentley wanted to try out something like a card-counting formula...?" The turtle nodded, writing something out on a sheet of paper. Probably the previously mentioned formula. Shomti, looking around and deciding nothing exciting was going to happen for a while, removed his shirt and laid back so he could sleep.

Before long, though, Murray pulled the van into a parking lot. The jolt was enough to wake him from his slumber, and he pushed his head through his shirt to make himself presentable. Not like he wasn't attractive without his shirt, but some people would have fits if there was a random person walking around town without wearing a shirt.

"I'm awake. Don't hit me with anything." He said, looking and seeing Sly about to prod him with his cane. The raccoon shrugged, and gestured out of the van. Shomti poked his head out and looked around. "It's a casino. So?" He shrugged. "Oh, right. I'll bet me and Bentley will be the ones that win." He said as he pulled out his wallet. "So, how much do you think I should spend?" Sly raised an eyebrow.

"You can gamble?" Shomti laughed out loud, and Bentley joined Sly in looking skeptical.

"Can I gamble? Look, look at my poker face. Nobody knows if they should take me seriously. I mean, I'm a maniacally laughing fox. What would you do?" He said, breaking out into a hysterical chuckle. "That's my poker face. Let's go play cards." Sly nodded as Murray shut off the van's engine and the Gang stepped out. Shomti, of course, had to slip past the guards and into the casino without being detected. But he was good at that by now, so it wasn't any trouble.

By the time they left, Shomti's pockets were heavy with coins and Sly was empty handed but for his cane. Murray, too, had been cleaned. But Bentley was even richer than Shomti, having several checks stuffed in his pockets. Shomti, impatient as always, was eager to continue with the hunting down of Clockwerk's parts.

"So... When are we going to get after the rest of the Klaww Gang?" He said, as soon as they were safely in their van. Bentley turned on his laptop and opened up an Interpol file.

"Rajan is our next target. Let's go to the hotel and get some sleep, then we can go on down to India." Shomti looked surprised.

"What, in a van?" Sly nodded, pulling his hat over his eyes.

"Bring something to do, and get used to a lot of driving. We generally have to drive everywhere we go. You got lucky with the airplane to France." He said, and the fox shrugged.

"I've had a drive that far before. New York to California, from one side of the States to the other, in just four days. I must say, it rather sucked." He said, pulling a coin out of his pocket. "But then again, I didn't have my three heroes in a car with me. And I wasn't creative enough to think of this: "A hundred ways to tick people off... with just one coin." Pretty smart, huh?" Sly moaned, and climbed into the back of the van with Shomti, lying down to sleep.

"Murray, get us to the hotel." He said before dropping off.

Okay, I have literally done NOTHING on the next chapter. I finished this one and instantly wanted to put it up here, just before I print it for my English teacher. I will get it done and to you people in... um... soon. Before next year sometime, I hope. I can now apply most of my attention to it, and I've gotten sucked back into Sly Cooper, so it will go much faster this time. Also, sorry that it's a little short. I did the best I could, but heists are rather quick and I didn't want a bunch of Monaco fluff. Especially since I'm still not sure what Monaco is.


	5. No Dinner, Just Dancing

I know it's been a while, I know I know I know. It's been so long that people reading this might not even realize that this is a very old story. I got... sidetracked. For a year or two. I'm really sorry. On a different note, though, I like this particular chapter; I think I've improved a bit on the previous chapters as far as making my sentences easily comprehensible (okay, so maybe they're a little complicated, but they're better) and improving over the plot previously. This is where the complexity that's present in ALL my writing comes in. With that, and a statement that I don't own the Sly Cooper franchise, I hope you enjoy my new chapter.

No Dinner, Just Dancing

Shomti rolled over in his sleep, and at that point hit his head against the blasted tailfeathers. He'd been irritated enough that the gang didn't have anyplace to put them but the van, and that was just when they first got them. Now, after a week cramped in the van with them, he felt like if he was given a choice he would break them into pieces and feed them to separate volcanoes across the world. Active ones, at that. But for now, he lived with them, and started looking through his book. He had read through much of it already, about a quarter remaining, and was finding the various techniques quite entertaining if used in the proper context... for instance, he had already picked up the spire jump with a bit of help from Sly. That was very useful for a few times in the hotel when he could freak Murray out to no end by sitting on a seemingly impossible perch, like a lamp. But, after Sly leaked that Shomti had learned the spire jump, the vulpine assassin had no more fun with that trick. Indeed, Murray refused to talk to him for about five minutes or so, though that was the furthest the hippo got without forgetting why he was sulking. Shomti, though, didn't do that trick again anyway. Just to be safe.

And now, several days and one more nasty bump on the head from the tailfeathers, Shomti and the gang were arriving at their destination. How could he tell? Well... for one thing, he could no longer see out of the van due to the foliage blocking the windows, meaning they were approaching Rajan's jungle palace. And for another, Sly poked him with his cane and told him that they were getting close. Go figure.

"Tell me again why Rajan couldn't just host this banquet at the local Country Club?" Sly rolled his eyes in a somewhat exasperated fashion, and ignored Shomti's acidic comment who clearly had developed a strong negative opinion for Rajan before even meeting him. That would either make this job much easier... or much harder. Either way, though, Shomti just wanted to get into a fight with the lumbering beast and come out on top. Which he would probably be able to do, considering his skill with daggers and his martial arts training. However, the opportunity would probably not present itself, so Shomti would have to make do with throwing his daggers at a large poster of Rajan in the safe-house. It was actually more of a cave, truth be told, but it would do quite well for their purposes, which included very little aside from sleeping and plotting.

It was in this cave that Shomti was complaining at the moment. In fact, Sly had sent him out of the safe-house twice now just to get rid of him as Bentley worked on a plan to get in.

"Why can't we just go in through the front door? I mean, it's a party, he ought to expect a few guests." Sly rolled his eyes again at the question, and let Bentley handle it. The turtle pushed up his glasses before answering Shomti.

"Because, Shomti, he obviously expects everyone to have an invitation. And if not, he expects a dress code. Which is why I have taken the liberty of sending in to ThiefNet for a tuxedo for both of you. Sly, yours is navy blue as per your general expectations. Shomti, I just went with black and a red shirt for you. You don't mind, do you?" Shomti shook his head, and a light sound outside the door caused him to stand up. It sounded like a box lightly floating down to earth, perhaps weighted by two tuxedos within.

"That'll be them, then? I suppose ThiefNet parachutes supplies down to people in the middle of jungles. I'll get them." He said, walking out and simply glad to have something to get his mind off the monotony of the cave. Unfortunately, he didn't have to go far before he found the clothing boxes, so he couldn't explore anywhere. He could, however, get a nice long look at the scenery he was too chagrined to appreciate on the way up here. "It's nice."

"I know." A voice in front of him and to the left caused him to start. There was Neyla, dressed for ceremony and crossing her arms. She looked out of place without her whip in hand. "What are in the boxes, Shom?" And Shomti remembered where he'd gotten that nickname before. His girlfriend had called him that, for the years they'd gone out before she revealed what a cheating bitch he would keep loving for a good long time. _Hey, Shom, how are you tonight?_ He hated the name now.

"Don't call me that, Neyla." Shomti said, without preamble and without answering her question. He tossed the boxes carelessly into the cave, then called over his shoulder to Bentley. "I'm just going to look around out here for a little while, okay?" A nasally approval shortly preceded Shomti's moving quickly closer to Neyla. Before she could move, he pinned her against a particularly large tree and hissed in her ear furiously.

"What are you doing outside our bloody safehouse?" A smug smile crossed her face, and Shomti just wished he could draw one of his knives and cut her throat. Why couldn't he bring himself to do it?

His excuse was that it would get him and the others caught. It wasn't the real reason, but he didn't know what the real reason was, and that was as good as any he could think of.

"Temper, temper, Shom. I'm here to talk to you, and I don't mean the Gang." Shomti let her go, taking a few steps back to give her room. When she remained silent for a few seconds, he grew impatient and crossed his arms.

"Then talk. If you're worried about me listening, don't be. My ears are this big for a reason." He jerked slightly, however, when Neyla did not talk. Instead, she closed the gap between the two of them incredibly quickly and pressed her lips against Shomti's. The contact was so quick, so intimate, that Shomti instinctively kissed her back, reaching up to stroke her face. It only lasted a few seconds, but when it was over, she looked at him with a strange smile. He took a moment to catch his breath, then grinned wryly. "That's not talking. And you, Neyla, taste like grapes." Neyla laughed lightly, then walked off with a passing comment directed over her shoulder at Shomti.

"I'll see you at the dance." Shomti didn't ask how she knew he was going, he simply wiped her lipstick off his mouth and, after a few seconds, he called out to her once more. She turned her head and smiled as he repeated himself...

"I liked blood better." Neyla stuck out her tongue at him mockingly, and the flash of a piercing greeted his eyes. She seemed to like the off-center hole in her tongue that he'd put there... but that wasn't his main thought as he walked back into the cave and looked around at the members of the gang. "Those are our tuxes. I know a way in, as well. Spire jumps on the rocks across the river, once you're in you can lower the drawbridge from inside for the rest of us. Ready, Sly?" Shomti cut his box open and pulled out the tuxedo within.

"Sure. Um, are you coming with me?" Shomti shook his head, picking his binocucom up off the table. He slipped it into his side pack, and took the tuxedo into the cavity of the cave that served as his and Sly's room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to recon the ballroom while you take down the drawbridge for everyone else. Radio me when you need me. And Bentley, we're going to hack the computer as soon as Sly lets you in." Shomti called down the "hallway", which was just a pathway in the rock. "I can help you as soon as you give me a little lesson. Don't worry, I'll catch on quickly. Now then," He emerged from the room, his black mask creating a masked stranger look about him. Exactly what he wanted. Neyla would recognize him, but Carmelita wouldn't. And he would be dancing with Carmelita as soon as he got all his pictures. A pair of daggers hanging from his hip gave him a dangerous air, and he smiled, holding his arms out as if to say "How do I look?" Bentley's eyebrows raised, and Sly followed suit. Murray just kept munching his food.

"You expect them to let you in like that?" Shomti shook his head with a smile.

"I expect to make them. Hence the daggers." Sly curled his lips into an "Oh" shape, and then laughed. He picked up his cane and dashed out, followed by Shomti who parted ways with him to walk regally to the drawbridge. Once there, he crossed his arms and waited as if for it to open. A few seconds, and he coughed loudly. "Does Rajan mean to slight me by this disgrace?" It lowered quickly, and he walked across with a hidden smile. As soon as he got all the way in, it raised just as fast as it had lowered. He proceeded to walk directly towards the palace, and ignored any guards he may have come across. Best not to draw their attention; act like you belong there, and they'll think you do. At least, as long as you look like it. It was a long walk to get into the palace, but once he was there the guard opened the eyehole to ask if he was invited.

"Hold a moment. Let me get my invitation out..." He swiftly drew one dagger and kicked the door in, pointing the deadly weapon at the downed guard. "Ah yes, here it is. Thanks so much for letting me in." As the guard got up, Shomti knocked him hard in the temple with the pommel of one his knives. Bloodless; couldn't afford to ruin this suit. It had obviously run Bentley a high price. Looking around, he dragged the guard off to the locker room, which had been labeled as for guests only, and locked him in the coat room. Once he was sure the rhino wasn't going to pop the door open with his sheer weight, Shomti walked out coolly onto the dance floor. Instantly Neyla, who had been dancing with Rajan, narrowed her eyes at him as he meandered over to Carmelita.

"Excuse me, miss, you look like the kind of person who could maintain a decent conversation. Quite a rarity, as one finds. Might I ask for your name?" He said elegantly, cocking his head slightly. Being taller than the average fifteen-year-old, he very easily passed for her age and she turned her head to him.

"Carmelita. And you are...?" Clearly she was drawn in by his trap. If you couldn't guess, this was a good thing; he liked traps. So fun.

"Please, call me Shomti." She didn't know his name; only Neyla did. Logically, then, it would be fine for her to call him by his name. Undercurrents in her gaze showed themselves to him as she smiled pleasantly, and he worked hard to cover up his facial movement.

"Charmed, Shomti. I wonder if we might share the pleasure of a dance later this evening?" Shomti nodded pleasantly. He'd come to dance and recon, after all.

"Indeed, though I'm afraid I'm not the best of dancing partners. Perhaps you might do better to ask our host?" Carmelita seemed to hide a shudder and shook her head. "I see. Personally, I'm not too keen on him myself." An understatement; Shomti wouldn't want to dance with him either. That normally goes without saying, of course, but even were he a female, he would never accede to dancing with that puffed-up, pompous kitten. In fact, the only reason Shomti would consider getting within five feet of the tiger would be to slit his throat neatly and leave the body on the throne.

"Yes, well... are you here... alone, Shomti?" Shomti appeared surprised, looking around the room before letting his gaze rest on her.

"At the moment, due to your presence, I am, in fact, not alone. I have a friend who may be joining us later, if that's what you mean." Carmelita shook her head. "Oh, I see. Yes, I'm quite single, should that matter any." Miss Fox appeared pleased; Shomti hoped it wasn't for the reason he was thinking. _Please, really. You're eight years older than I am, and Sly's in love with you. I'm really not in the position to give you either of those reasons, but..._ And that was when it stopped... his train of thought was rudely interrupted by a momentary blackness. Everything sort of went blank in his head for a few seconds, and he clearly showed it. Shomti blinked slowly, trying to get a grip on his surroundings as the ballroom shifted a bit. "Miss Carmelita..." He was having trouble standing up straight, and put a hand to his head in order to aid his balance. "What time is it?" It made his head throb to speak, and he was getting more dizzy by the second. Something wasn't right here, and he seemed to know this, but at the same time it escaped his comprehension.

"It's eight fifteen. Why, are you alright?" She seemed unduly concerned now, because Shomti was suddenly quite fine. The disorienting feeling had passed. "Shomti...?" Shomti paused, looking around the elegant ballroom to try and stir any memories, which readily rose to the surface.

"Right... name, Shomti. That's me." He had regained his ability to speak, albeit with a slight British accent. Funny thing, that; he'd never actually lived in Britain. He did possess an accent from there and it mostly only showed through his highly controlled words if he was annoyed, sleepy, disoriented, fighting, or performing any other activity that lowered his brainwave activity to alpha, normally present with one's eyes closed. "Sorry to change the subject, but did I ever tell you how old I was?" Carmelita cocked her head slightly, and paused as though to think. Clearly she was sifting through the various statements he had made, likely exactly as he had said them; a very useful talent for a cop and, if promotions were given as Shomti would have it, one that you wouldn't get far without.

"No... no, you didn't. Why? Should you have?" Shomti shook his head and put a finger to his temple. It was a pressure point, a focal point of nervous tissue and mental energy. It was basically a vortex of swirling mental energy, and by stroking it Shomti calmed his nerves slightly, the slight residual headache he'd had starting to dissipate.

"I only wish I did. I can't remember. You're Carmelita, I'm Shomti... who's she?" He pointed at Neyla, in her ceremonial garb. He knew who she was, however; everything from this universe remained. The kisses were particularly vivid. Why had he bitten her tongue, again? Aside from that, it had been quite the pleasant kiss. And why couldn't he remember anything else? "How old do I look to you?"

"She's Neyla, and you look to be about eighteen, twenty maybe. Does it matter, Shomti?" She was concerned with his well-being. Understandable, since he was clearly suffering from something. Carmelita had probably already suspected there was a little something unusual about the fox—he had that effect on people—but he doubted she'd have pinpointed it. Perhaps she thought now that it was something psychological or mental, and that he was feeling its effects now.

"Neyla..." Shomti stretched the word out, getting a feel for it. "I'm sorry, I need to go. I've got to find someone." He said hurriedly, rushing out of the room. Just then, his binocucom vibrated and he pulled it out, holding it against his face.

"Shomti, I've opened the drawbridge. Bentley's going to come hack the system. You got those pictures yet?" Shomti shook his head.

"Give me a moment. Look, I'll meet you there, okay?" He said, and turned off the radio contact before Sly could reply. He was so confused... where had he come from? He felt as though he'd lost something. A big something. He couldn't remember most of his life... he knew he came from a different universe, but... there... what was he missing? What life had he led there? It can't have been good, but he wanted to know. He snuck out onto a balcony overlooking the dance floor and took pictures of everyone there, a couple extra of Neyla and Carmelita to subtly hint he was attracted to Neyla. The extras of Carmelita were for Sly. He also took a picture of a few guards before leaving to find Sly and the others; he had a lot to think about.

Meanwhile, however, Neyla had finished her dance with Rajan and was closing in on the Contessa. Obviously she had noticed Shomti's unusual behavior, and pulled the black widow aside.

"Do you know what you just did, Contessa?!" She wanted to shout those words, but she couldn't without alerting people to their presence. Only Contessa, Arpeggio, and Neyla knew about Shomti.

"What you told me to do, Neyla. You told me to focus on Shomti and erase his memory. Is there a problem?" The Contessa said, confused. Neyla pointed at her threateningly, and worked her jaw without saying anything.

"You... you... IDIOT! Tebe blbec!" She hissed in Czech; the Contessa, living in Prague, would obviously understand that better. "You erased it all! All of it! Do you know what that means? No knowledge of the future, nothing! I'd be surprised if he even knew his own age, thanks to you."

"His defenses were strong, I... I had to work hard to begin with. There is no preciseness at that level of strength, so when he lowered his guard I couldn't stop the hypnotism in time. Don't worry. I didn't completely remove everything; he may remember over time. Just continue as planned." Neyla growled at the Contessa.

"No more mistakes, Contessa. He's only useful as long as his mind is intact. In fact, don't mess with his mind or his memories anymore. Just... Just leave him alone. I'll get him to join us whether he wants to or not." She walked back to Carmelita, who was just finishing a dance with a guest whom she didn't know and never would. After all, she had her eye on Shomti, despite him having left the palace. Such a mysterious, and handsome, young fox...

Who was currently fighting without blades so as to keep blood off his tux. A quick jaw-breaking jab, an elbow to the side of the head, and a strong kick through his opponent's chest dispatched the monkey, leaving it with more than one broken bone. Hell, more than ten broken bones, among them the hardest bones in the entire body.

"Bentley, are you quite through yet?" The turtle shouted something over his shoulder at Shomti, who was too busy smashing his footpaw into someone's knee to hear the response. He finished his victim with a knee to the chin that snapped the primate's neck. "What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"I said no, Shomti! I have a few more levels of security to get through. This isn't easy for me, either!" He said in his nasally manner; Shomti gave another guard a concussion with the palm of his hand and brought his leg into its back to finish it for good as he heard the vertebrae shatter.

"Hey, you're not the one crushing bones without weapons. Just hurry it up." Shomti said, grabbing a spear that went flying past him just to spin and hurl it back at the source, which he hit through the chest. The point pierced his target's heart, which stopped beating around the cold metal of the spear's point. Slowly, lifelessly, the monkey crumpled to the ground.

Shomti, on the other hand, was still alive and well, and he needed to work out a better way of fighting. "How many more levels?" He asked as he threw a monkey to the ground with a grappling technique from his Martial Arts background. His opponent hit the ground head first, and the blood on the floor seeped out in a wide puddle; Shomti did his best to avoid it. "How many more levels?!" He shouted again, resting on the body of a dead guard while he waited for the next wave. It never came.

"No more. That's all of them." Bentley sounded relieved; if he was, it was for good reason. "I've called off the attack. I have all the files I need, I've planted the splice clip, and I've got control of the winch, so let's get out of here." Shomti stopped the turtle by putting one hand on his shoulder.

"Before we go, I have an idea."

Back at the safehouse, Sly and Shomti were laughing. They'd taken pictures of the ending screen that they'd left with their prank, so as to fully appreciate it, and pinned them up on their wall. Bentley failed to see the humor in that.

"We _drained_ his bank account into charity, Sly! That's not how we work!" Sly waved Bentley away, laughing hysterically as Shomti read the phrase on the thank-you E-card that popped up when the transfer was complete.

"'The children thank you, Rajan! Eighty cents on every dollar of your donation will help a child in Africa get a meal tomorrow.' Yeah, and it won't stop tomorrow either, will it Sly? Rajan's donation is going to keep giving, and giving, and giving!" He laughed loudly, and covered his mouth. "Alright, what are we doing next?" Shomti asked, chuckling at the high-cost practical joke they'd played on Rajan's finances.

"Murray's going to take out a helicopter patrolling the area around the palace. Sly's going to have to collect the rubies from the headdresses of the elephants, after which he will join you in the ballroom. You'll be dancing with Carmelita, as it seems she'd more readily accept a dance from you, and when Sly arrives he will entice Neyla to dance with him. Everybody set? Good. Now, after Murray takes out the helicopter, I'm going to go on a bombing raid, so don't radio me. Pull these jobs off and we'll be ready for the heist just as soon as I put together a radial saw from the rubies." Bentley finished with a sneeze, readjusting his glasses as Sly and Shomti both left at a run. Murray followed behind, his heavy step creating a slight vibration that Bentley could pick up with his sensitive feet. Once everyone was gone, Bentley flipped up his laptop and logged onto ThiefNet, messaging one of his friends to pass the time. Soon he was lost in the clicking of his keyboard.

Shomti, meanwhile, was making his way towards Rajan's palace. The place was all so confusing, though, and he only just managed to find a way to the door when he saw the smoke from the elephants billowing into the sky. Well, at least he would have time to dance with Carmelita before Sly showed up. That was a hopeful thing, of course... he wasn't sure about that. He hoped and he prayed that it wouldn't be interrupted, but he couldn't be sure. A surprised grunt alerted him to the fact that a monkey knew he was there; he distractedly eliminated it by giving the primate a headlong shove into a nearby fire before beginning to scale the palace to get up to the entrance. It was a bit harder than he thought, because he had to find the bloody door in the first place before he could do anything, and that irked him. Then when he did find it there was no way up directly to it... no pipes or anything. Which, of course, irked him further. No, now he had to back up a few buildings and jump up on top of those and jump from them to the balcony and THEN he could get let in by the guard. Ah, well, at least he didn't have any blood on his tuxedo. Maybe his shoes, but who'd look at his shoes anyway?

So there he was, on the stairs and walking regally down with one hand skimming the balustrade. Obviously, he'd been noticed by Carmelita, and Neyla besides, so he decided to scan the ballroom to find them before locking his eyes on them after not too long and walking towards them as they approached. His feet glided over the marble floor and he wore a bit of a grin on his face; a perfect lie, a mask that no eyes could penetrate because it permeated his very fiber. For the next few minutes, he wouldn't be the same Shomti. He wouldn't be the assassin or the thief, not the genius or the manipulator. For a few minutes, he was a dancer, elegant, dark and mysterious but still not to be worried about. While he retained his memories, he didn't access them; it was just like being in a play, wasn't it? Just much more high-risk.

"Hello again, Carmelita. And Neyla; I'm afraid that's all I know of you, your name. I just had to step out and get a bit of fresh air... as you noticed I started getting dizzy. It's... well, I've got a few things wrong up here." He tapped his temple gently. "Nothing too serious, but sometimes I have a panic attack for no reason. Unusual, yes, but I live with it." Neyla seemed bemused by his lie; he could almost read her thoughts through that transparent smile of hers. _That's quite believable... a lie, but believable._ He just didn't know that she could have told him then and there the real cause of his disorientation. Carmelita, however, was the one to speak.

"That's too bad... Have you remembered, then?" Shomti paused, then smiled to cover up the awkward moment. He hadn't, of course, but he needed them to think that whatever it was, it was fine. He also needed Carmelita to think he was around her age. Besides, with the kind of brain he knew he had, how young could he be? Probably eighteen or nineteen; not a huge lie...

"Yes... I'm Shomti of twenty-one years, he's Rajan, she's Neyla, and if I had to hazard a guess I'd have to say she was the Contessa... Never seen her, but she's rather famous to people who deal with cops often like I do." He said, smiling at Carmelita. "Don't worry. Mental problems aren't contagious." _Not the kinds I'm talking about at least... now, if you were to deal with me in a different way, I'm afraid you'd find some of my logic is undeniable and therefore a few of the things that make me "diseased" are in fact quite contagious._

"I see... so, Shomti, are we going to have that dance we talked about?" Neyla stopped Shomti here, interrupting as curtly as possible, but still clearly annoying Carmelita.

"I'm sorry, Carmelita, but I would like to talk to him myself for a little while... I'm sure you can wait a few minutes for your dance, both of you?" Shomti winced mentally, as he'd wanted to dance with Carmelita and be done before Sly showed up so there wouldn't be any reason for his friend to be distracted. But it wasn't as though he could come up with a lie, and so he smiled gently.

"Of course I can. Carmelita, you'll get that dance soon enough. If you had a watch, I'd say five minutes, but your wrists are bare and you don't have room in your skirt for a pocket watch." _All available room is taken by the shock pistol, I'm sure... where did you tuck that away, anyway?_ Then, after a moments consideration, _No, maybe I should leave some questions unasked and unanswered._

"I have an excellent sense of time." The vixen asserted, and walked away. Her blue hair cascaded over her shoulders, and it seemed to Shomti that she made a point of swaying her hips just that extra bit more. "Five minutes." She called over her shoulder, more to Neyla than to Shomti. Neyla nodded hurriedly and looked at Shomti, obviously irritated by something. He couldn't imagine what, though, until she sputtered angrily at him.

"You're dancing with her?! What's the meaning of that, you rummy blighter?" Shomti grinned a little, leaning in and whispering into her ear.

"Right now it's my job to dance with pretty women. You get a dance later, if you want one." Neyla would have slapped him then and there, but she refrained and managed to merely glare at him. "I don't see why you're so angry... it's not as though I ever specifically said there was something between us. Oh, and I like what you did with the hole; how thoughtful of you to keep it." This was intended to deflect anger that could have been incited by his previous statement, but also because he really did like the tongue piercing. "Is it diamond?"

"I can tell when you're trying to change the subject, Shomti. And whether you specifically said it or not, I'm allowed to assume there is, considering that you didn't react negatively when I kissed you back at the safehouse." _And yes, it's diamond, but I wouldn't expect you to care. I'm willing to bet you're hoping to get a kiss from miss Fox as well, aren't you?_

"Until after you let me go. I really did like the blood better; whatever you're doing to make your breath better, don't." Neyla grinned a little, her eyes showing a bit of cunning again. Logic had made a recovery in her mind, and Shomti got the feeling it was going to sting him in much the same way as he had himself stung others with his wit. As it happens, Shomti was not let down by Neyla's performance.

"So you intend to have another taste? I assure you it's worn off by now; nothing but Neyla here." A logical deduction, yes. The kind that made the fox dizzy in his current lower state of mind. Shomti sighed and rubbed his temples. Neyla over-analyzed things in much the same way that he did, dragging the true meaning out of a casual comment. She was right in this case, but he didn't want to admit it, not to himself and not to her.

"Not now, Neyla. I'm not in the mood for higher-level thinking and a battle of wits; if you had any manners, you'd wait until I was armed before starting one of those. Unless you don't think you can win?" Neyla laughed lightly, seeing Carmelita walking up even though Shomti knew it had been only about four minutes. Carmelita certainly did have a good sense of time; soon enough to be significant and late enough that it was unnoticeable if you weren't looking for it. As it were, both Shomti and Neyla were looking for it, but weren't about to point that out. "Ah, Carmelita... I've kept you waiting for this dance long enough. We shall have to resume this conversation another time, Neyla." And with that, he gracefully led Carmelita onto the dance floor, queuing the musician and taking his position. It was then that he recalled he couldn't dance. This, of course, was going to be a problem. Well... he supposed he could wing it with a trick he'd picked up from Sly. If your head doesn't know what in bloody Hell to do, then you'd better listen to all the rest of your body. Still, in case it didn't work... "Carmelita, I should have told you before, but I'm far from the best dancer." An understatement, he was fairly sure, but he didn't point out to her that he had never danced before in his life. The closest he'd come to dancing, in fact, was his tendency to have random fights with his shadow. Well, that was a poor way to describe it. He didn't exactly fight his shadow or react to its movements, since if he did that he'd make one move and stop it in the middle and never actually do anything more. Rather, he'd fight imaginary foes all around him, created by his mind to attack at various levels of skill and in various manners. He often looked quite menacing, dangerous even, while he practiced in this manner. Maybe dancing was something like that?

The music started up, and he had no more time to think. He wanted to close his eyes, but figured it'd be better if he didn't, and his feet somehow knew exactly where to go, his hands gently pushing on Carmelita's body to guide her where he wished her to step. That was, of course, basic stuff. He knew Carmelita needed more entertaining dancing than that; how could he bring himself to disappoint her? He felt the music change in intensity, growing stronger in his mind, and his motions therein became bolder. Step, step, stamp, turn; he wasn't too incredibly terrible, he was just not used to it yet. At a pause in the music, he swept his body around and caught Carmelita, looking down at her. She grinned up at him. "I thought you'd said you weren't a good dancer."

"For you I'd be a good anything." Of course it was a lie, but he figured he might as well get her to like him. The more she liked Shomti, the more he could manipulate that and therein manipulate her. Sly wouldn't like it, but Shomti didn't intend for Sly to find out. Of course, as Shomti started dancing again and Rajan made a remark that he was very graceful, Sly walked through the door with his tuxedo on and, taking note of Shomti dancing with Carmelita, approached Neyla and, with a short conversation, took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. Neyla didn't seem too entirely thrilled to be dancing with Sly instead of Shomti, and Sly appeared to be equally discontented with the situation. They were, however, quite graceful as they moved over to the wide floor; probably more so than Shomti was. After all, Shomti was running on instinct; great for fights, not the best way to dance. Just a minute or two more, though, and Shomti would be off the dance floor and back to where he was comfortable. Step, step, turn, and he let Carmelita fall backwards into a very showy end, supporting her upper back with one arm and letting the other flourish to one side while she flourished both hands over her head and arched her back. It was rather clichéd, but the best he could manage considering he had never danced. He would be able to do better with Neyla later on, having gleaned much from Carmelita's motions and movements. He held the pose for a few seconds, as though to confirm to everyone watching that he was, in fact, done dancing. Something happened then that he didn't expect: someone clapped. The clapping started with Rajan, he guessed, then Arpeggio gave his little clap before most others at the ball started their roaring cheers. Sly and Neyla hadn't started yet, so they calmly waited for everyone else to slow their clapping before motioning to the musician while Shomti led Carmelita off to the side by her paw.

"You were better than I thought, Shomti. I guess there's just one more thing I want before this night is done..." Shomti knew she wanted a kiss. Kisses were pretty much standard to any serious flirt, and he had a feeling she was being more serious, less flirty. Since he'd given Neyla one simply because of the shocked reaction he knew he'd get, it wasn't as though he could refuse a kiss because he believed it to be too romantic for two people who had just met. That wasn't it. But he wasn't about to pucker up, obviously, because while Carmelita was indeed very attractive he was concerned with Sly's impression of him. Sly was a good friend of his, and he most certainly didn't want the raccoon to think he was moving in on Carmelita when he knew Sly was interested in her himself.

"You said that out loud, you know." He joked gently, in response to which the vixen blushed beneath her fur, only apparent if one looked at the insides of her ears which turned slightly pink. Obviously she had known she said it and had expected it to be received as more of a flirt. Of course, he decided to play on it anyway; the reaction was simply a way to subconsciously suggest he wasn't interested. He'd been in her place before, though, and had doubts that the subtle hint would work. "But now that you've let it slip, why don't you tell me what?"

"Well, I think I might wait until the right moment before I let you know. Oh, it seems we've missed the refreshment table in our daze from the dance. Do you think you could escort me?" Carmelita took the liberty of casually reaching out and wrapping her vulpine fingers around Shomti's. Or trying. He saw the motion from the corner of his eye, and in a sweeping motion of his hands deftly avoided her attempt while making it seem as though he were being a gentleman and gesturing that he would rather her go ahead of him. She blushed a little more and didn't seem to realize it was intentional that he evaded her paw.

"I take it that it is still customary to let ladies ahead of oneself in such a setting as this? I'm afraid I'm a bit rusty on my manners. It's not an insult, is it?" He asked, acting out the concern as effectively as if it were genuine. The black, slightly coarser fur over his eyes acting as eyebrows even tilted up in apology. It was just too simple, now, for him to assume an emotion. Acting as this second entity, this dancer, was currently not second nature but first.

"N-no, it's not an insult. I find it quite charming, in fact. And they say chivalry is dead." Shomti smiled a bit despite himself as Carmelita referred to him as chivalrous. Alright, so maybe he was a little chivalrous. He'd never thought of it that way, but it did have a lot going for it. So he was a chivalrous thief... As Carmelita walked over to the table covered in dainty snacks, he couldn't help but let his eyes drift over her curvaceous body. She seemed to be putting a little bit more swing into her hips, accentuating the slow, luxurious way her tail flexed back and forth with each step. It was meant to attract him and, if he didn't already, make him realize how very beautiful she was. And, in his opinion, it was working. He was quite attracted. Unfortunately for her, he was also not so clouded by his hormones—being fifteen whether he knew that or not he had many, many chemicals raging through his body to try and get him to do something incredibly, unbelievably stupid, and the transformation didn't change that in the least—as to forget that he would slight his new friend if he were to give in to these particular instincts. Hey, if he gave in to every single feeling he got, every single instinct, he would have done some things that he got the distinct impression neither Sly or Carmelita would approve of.

But he wasn't going to. He was stronger than that, and even though he normally went with the flow, following what his body told him was best, this was one of those times where the animal in him most certainly did not understand the politics, the intricate diplomacy of the situation.

Well, intricate compared to the life of hunt, rut, drink, and sleep that the fox in him advocated. Come to think of it, there was a little voice in his head that he knew was saying—no, wait. There was a voice in his head, and he was aware of it as he walked slightly behind Carmelita and dragged his eyes up to look at her face rather than her ass. That voice, however, was brought on by the alcohol in the punch. Hadn't he had a sip of that? Yes, that's it. He'd actually had more than a sip. He could swear that he had, at least. He wasn't sure anymore. He was fairly sure. That must be it. And, with that explanation, he jolted himself back to reality as they reached the miniature sandwiches strewn across a table around the large bowl and cups that was the punch he could swear got him intoxicated. He only now noticed that he was mocking the delicate foodstuffs, because they were so obviously impractical. They had, what, fifty calories? Less, likely. They would keep him going for about a half an hour. Useless in the extreme. Just as the remaining human in him was contemplating whether they tasted as good as they looked, Carmelita addressed him.

"I'm sorry, Carmelita, I was pondering those sandwiches. Could you repeat yourself?" He asked quietly, tearing his eyes away from the amusing sandwiches—which had an unusual, spicy sort of scent to them—to look at her before he had to tear his eyes away from her chest to look up at her face. Fortunately he did this quickly enough that she seemed not to notice him having looked at her bosom and she simply restated her question with a slightly amused smile on her face at his unusual excuse to have missed what she said.

"I was asking if you had a room here at the palace. It's not as though there are very many rooms in the guest house, so I could let you stay in my room if you would otherwise have to drive back to a hotel outside the jungle. It's a long drive." Shomti did his best not to raise his eyebrows in shock. It wasn't that he was in awe that she liked him that much, though there was that, it was more that it was Carmelita. He would never have guessed she'd ask someone to her guest room in the palace. Mind you, even if he was just an ordinary guest with no social inhibitions, meaning if he didn't know Sly, the odds that he'd accept were not favorable.

"No, I'm afraid I do have to make the drive, so I suppose if you're really fine with it, it should be acceptable to stay with you. Only, of course, if you really don't mind." He said, carefully pronouncing the words and making sure that he wasn't implying overeagerness to get in the same room as her, alone. And besides that, after the Wings were lifted out, he'd be gone without a trace. Shomti wasn't actually going to go to her room. That, of course, was how he rationalized it that he was agreeing to spend the night with Carmelita in her guest room.

"I really don't mind, Shomti. There's no other person here I'd feel more comfortable alone in a room with; I get the distinct impression you're not going to try anything. More than can be said for most of the guys here..." Shomti shrugged, nodding in Sly's direction.

"My friend over there would disagree; he's probably nicer than I am as far as that goes. At least, he's never made a move on me." He joked, grinning to convey the idea that obviously he wasn't serious. "But really, he's a good guy. He would never make an advance on anyone who trusted him like that. Honestly, you'd be better off trusting him in your bedroom than me." Okay, so maybe she wouldn't be. But she wasn't about to change her mind about the partner she wanted to sleep in her room. He knew that much.

"Well, I don't know about that... besides, I'd much rather have an evening alone with you. I just feel we have lots to talk about." Not so much, actually, once you figure out that I'm a criminal. "You're such a charming gentleman, Shomti... I'm really looking forward to our conversations tonight. You seem quite knowledgeable when it comes to..." She seemed to pause there, as though to try and find a way to describe whatever he seemed to be an expert on. Of course there was no way that she knew his specific passion was actually martial arts; there was nothing in his slim profile to indicate the daggers on his hip as being for anything but decoration. "Everything in general, actually."

"You think too highly of me, Carmelita; there are far too many conundrums in even the tiniest structures of the universe for me to have general knowledge as you imply. Expertise like that, I believe, lies only in the realm of the oft-proposed monotheistic God." Which should Carmelita have faith in it would be the principal basis of Shomti's religion, or should she think it a respectable position although wrong, Shomti would be quick to point out that he thought of it a tad bit differently.

"Ah, yes, God... To tell you the truth, I would very much like to hear your opinions on such a theological matter. From what I can judge of your character, you are either a very moral atheist or a very devout Christian." Shomti grinned and shrugged; she was totally wrong, of course. His religion was something of atheism with a twist, since the norm could not account for the universes outside the one he came from. And quite obviously he was not in that one anymore. But moral? That was far from him. Sure, he had ethics, a set of laws by which he liked to hold himself, but he would gladly hurt or kill others to protect those he cared about and himself. He had no problems with stealing, or any of the other major "sins." Aside from adultery, of course, and he rationalized that as doing with someone else what your mate only wishes you to do with her. Or him, if you happened to be female. Not that Shomti had a problem with male/male couples, he just wasn't one. Now, mind you, according to his mental explanation, if your mate only wanted you to play chess with them, but didn't mind if you kissed, groped, or did... other... things with people, then that was fine as long as you did not play chess with anyone else. He didn't like the idea of being disloyal like that. Of course he didn't intend to get into a situation where he wouldn't be able to play chess. This thought led him back to the topic at hand by reminding him of the strategies in chess involving a bishop, which as you ought to know is a member of the clergy, and he jolted back to reality with a blink of his eyes. Those thoughts, of course, had run through his head in but a few seconds.

"My opinion...? On religion or monotheism in specific?" He asked, hoping to get a little clue out of the vixen's response as to whether she were atheistic. If he were to, say, seem to be a tad vehement when opposing Christian ideals and she turned out Christian... that would be a big problem.

"Oh, either one. I just like the way you talk, actually. It's... elegant, flowing. It's as though you flowingly think through your words the same way you drift along the floor to walk, or to dance... always knowing what to do and say." She reached out and took Shomti's hand, looking with bright eyes into the slits in each of his golden irises. "Gold eyes... haven't seen a fox with those in a long time. It's beautiful." Well... he was off the hook on religion, but now she seemed to be getting quite a lot more serious. He'd rather have had to describe how vehemently he disbelieved than to swallow his guilt and gaze into her green eyes.

"Yours are disarmingly clear... as though you can see into one's soul. The clarity of your emerald green irises makes me seem a clumsy fool; you're the most graceful individual I've laid these normally opaque windows of the soul upon." He did his best not to choke as a distant part of his mind registered that the music ended. Fortunately the part of Carmelita's mind he had reached with his poetic words was just a tad bit embarrassed by the way he described her, and turned away blushing. He had been hoping for that, though not expecting it. She also released his hand, something he was quite grateful for as his right ear perked and swiveled to lock onto the approaching raccoon and tigress.

"Ah, Shomti. Am I interrupting something between you and Miss...?" Carmelita would likely have been charmed if she wasn't thinking of Shomti at the time. As it was, she did smile kindly at the newcomer, and nod her head in greeting as she extended one black-furred paw.

"Fox. Carmelita Fox. Pleased to meet you." Sly took her extended paw and kissed it gently, which she responded to by blushing. Shomti figured she must have been expecting a handshake; he knew better when it came to Sly.

"Likewise, Miss Fox. Neyla, this is Shomti--" Shomti nodded at Sly, granting Neyla a brief smile.

"We've spoken; it seems you're going to need to find a new dance partner, as I had promised Neyla to dance with her soon, and I would so hate to disappoint." Shomti said, intentionally setting it up so that Sly, the graceful master of both stealth and words, could ask Carmelita in whatever way he deemed best and get her approval. Sly, of course, recognized this opportunity and mentally smiled, though only Shomti could pick up on the tiny change in his face and behavior.

"That's quite unfortunate... Well, Miss Fox, I saw you and Shomti dancing and I must say you are quite graceful. I would consider myself privileged to share a dance with you before the night is over." Shomti, taking a quick look over the situation, made a small step back to the punch bowl table and, turning around as though to pour himself a cup, discreetly pulled his small communicator—since the binocucoms were too big to carry in this suit, Bentley had given Sly and Shomti small devices to use. Since nobody was watching, he would need to get an estimate on the final time for their dances.

"Hey Bentley, we haven't got too much time. That ruby saw blade done yet?" On the other end of the line, Shomti was sure by the pause that was given that Bentley had nodded before realizing he wasn't using a normal binocucom, which would have recorded the motion with its built in cameras.

"Just about. The operation is going down in the next ten minutes, so just stall for time if you have to." Shomti didn't bother answering—it would have taken up precious seconds that would likely make him look suspicious—instead, he closed the channel and pocketed his device, using an innate speed that he pertained due to his being an assassin to fill a small cup with punch partly, swish it so it appeared as though he'd drunk from it, and set the ladle back noiselessly before turning to face his group. Nobody had thought anything of his short respite, and only Sly was looking, so Shomti quickly opened and closed his hand at his side twice to signify ten. The master thief understood the minimalist gesture, as indicated by a subtle nod that neither Neyla nor Carmelita seemed to have picked up.

"So Neyla, Carmelita... I don't believe we've established your occupations. If it's not too much to ask...?" Shomti asked, carefully phrasing every syllable as his mind set it out for him so that it seemed perfectly normal, a question that was meant to start a conversation from one that appeared to have reached its end. Neyla didn't seem too enthused with the inquisitive fox, but Carmelita was internally thrilled as it seemed Shomti was showing an interest in an aspect of her life that he would generally be interested in if he wished to get involved in her life. After all, why would it matter to him if he wouldn't see her again after leaving her room the next morning?

"I work for Interpol, and spend most of my time hunting down a certain international criminal... though I do get involved in other cases, from time to time. My family has been involved in law enforcement for generations; the Foxes go back quite a ways. Well, enough about me, Shomti; what do you occupy your time with?" Shomti smiled kindly, noting that Neyla appeared pleased not to have to go into how she worked for Interpol as well, as Carmelita's partner.

"Oh, I'm a bit of a... how would you say it? Wanderer? Traveler, of sorts. I find it interesting to keep moving; staying still always bores me. You might say I have a constant wanderlust, so I could end up in the weirdest places. In fact, I dropped by Monaco earlier this year. Interesting little place, Monaco. Casinos are legal there; I rather liked that. But as soon as I heard about this Rajan fellow having his ball, I knew I just had to show up. I'm not exactly invited, per se, but you won't let that slip, will you?" He asked, biting his lip a little on the last question to convey a sense of apprehension and that minor trespassing and gatecrashing were the only crimes he'd committed, rather than grand larceny. Carmelita, infatuated as she was, bought it. Clearly she was in the palm of Shomti's hand; a better place to be than in any others', since Shomti wouldn't do anything to hurt her. After all, Sly would wring his neck if he did.

"Of course not, Shomti. It's not as though it's too terrible a crime to show up with no criminal intent like this... I suppose you're just trying to enjoy the party, aren't you?" Carmelita normally would have condemned any such behavior, but this was Shomti. Sly seemed to see the extent to which Shomti was able to influence her, and—at least, Shomti hoped he noticed this next bit—how he had enough respect to do so without any intention of taking advantage of this to usurp her affections. He had, somehow, done just that, but he hoped that it was a passing fancy and she would not remember him by the next time they saw each other, but something told him she'd be greatly hurt by his disappearance. He tried to push it out of his head.

"I thank you, Carmelita, and yes, that's exactly what my friend and I are here for. Just to enjoy the party, though I daresay I had thought it would have more high points than a few dances and two very interesting ladies. The sandwiches are a nice touch, I guess." He joked, his vulpine smile stretching the tiniest imperceptible bit. Carmelita smiled as well, and Shomti paused to consider how much time had passed. Probably five or so minutes. His hesitation was not quite covered up well enough, and so Carmelita seemed to think he was perusing his memories for other possible high points—or perhaps scanning what may happen in the future. Knowing Carmelita, he supposed that was probably it. "But aside from that, nothing else particularly exciting has happened." He said, hopefully dispelling the thought that he was considering the bit about spending the night with Carmelita and wondering what high points would be there. He was, as I have pointed out, not intending to stay around that long.

"Well, I suppose there was the time we got questioned by the rhinos. Isn't that memorable enough, Shomti?" Shomti smiled, one hand almost going to his daggers. This was a bad move, and he knew it, so he checked it and stuck that hand in a pocket. Nobody noticed.

"Yes, well... I'd hardly call it questioning. It's just like I said, as long as you seem like you belong wherever you are people don't put too much effort into finding out whether you do or not." Sly seemed to shrug, and Carmelita smiled as if charmed. Neyla, who already knew this, was not particularly amused. She knew the ins and outs of lying and getting people to believe what you wanted them to; rather like Shomti.

Shomti quashed that thought quickly. He didn't want to get distracted yet. Just a few more minutes, and he'd be dancing with Neyla, then he would be gone. For now, he had to keep Carmelita intrigued, but shift her fascination to Sly. Somehow. Again, his thoughts were brought to an abrupt end, although not this time by his own willpower but Neyla's cockney accent. He rather liked it.

Damn, there he went again.

"You know, Shomti, there are easier ways of not getting caught by guards. You don't have to buy a tuxedo, after all... holding the arm of a prominent guest, for instance. If you ever need some help at all, I'd be thrilled to help you." Carmelita's ears dropped a hair as she detected the extremely suggestive tone in the accented words of Neyla's sentence, interpreting it as making a move on her fox. She gave her partner a glance that wordlessly embodied all her territoriality, and therein the temper Neyla would provoke if she were to try anything with Shomti during their dance. Using the kind of vocabulary Shomti is prone to using, he was her "designated victim" and because of this was off-limits to the advances of anyone else.

"I'm sure he hadn't seen you by the time he got here and was questioned. Isn't that right, Shomti?" Shomti had to nod reluctantly, but shrugged it off as though it were unimportant. Three minutes. "There, you see Neyla? I was the first one he met here, so clearly if he were to hold the hand of any prominent guest, I think it would be mine."

_Carmelita's paw is really quite warm..._ A fraction of a second later he realized that the only way he knew this was because of the clinging paw on his own. How had that happened? He hadn't anticipated that motion at all. This was a problem, since he was used to having complete control of a social situation. Or at least, when he didn't have control he generally had an understanding of what was happening. He should have seen her hand move at the very bare minimum. Shomti's conclusion, therefore, was that he wasn't thinking right. He extricated his paw carefully, chuckling a little bit.

"But I didn't, Carmelita; we were stopped before I ever met you, or indeed anyone in here. I hadn't made my way to the ballroom at that time, you see." Shomti would have gone on, and the conversation itself would have continued further, if there wasn't a clacking noise behind them. Sort of like claws. "Ah, Rajan. I don't believe I have yet made your acquaintance, but with such a reputation as yours it's hard not to recognize the Lord of the Hills." He said while spinning to meet the new arrival. The towering tiger glowered down over him.

"Very bold words, and believable too. But you happen not to be invited... and neither are you. I do not take kindly to uninvited guests. Security!" He made a gesture with this last bellow, and two rhinos, who had been flanking the great feline, stepped forward and each held a sword to their respective guests.

"Oh. In that case... let me see... You never got my name. I'm Shomti, and... yeah, last I checked I'm the guy who's about to kill your guards. Hey, you two, step back." This last sentence was shouted over his shoulder without taking his eyes off the guards, so on an impulse Carmelita and Neyla stepped back before realizing that they were most qualified for arresting someone. But who? There had been a clear shift in Shomti's character, so perhaps it was he—but then, Rajan was attempting to jail, or possibly even execute as was presumable from the lethal force the guards seemed willing to exercise, a man who, to the best of Carmelita's knowledge, had committed no crime worthy of such punishment. While she was pondering this and Neyla was pretending to, Shomti's paw darted up and caught the wrist of his "captor" rhino. From there it was a matter of twisting, a choice kick, and a hard strike to snap the guard's arm like a twig. The sword clattered to the ground, but rather than pick it up—as poorly balanced as it was—Shomti drew his daggers. Almost as an afterthought, he swung one foot up and caught Rajan in the face without his guard up. Sly had been handling his goon quite well so far, but Shomti slit the large gray mammal's throat anyway for good measure.

Carmelita, of course, only had one good look at the face of her object of affection, and even then convinced herself that she was imagining it. It was as though a fiend had pushed through the barrier between Hell and Earth, a hole beyond the deepest pits of Hell, and possessed him. His "golden" eyes were now flashing yellow, and his lips curled in a way that was certainly demonic as he spun amongst the blood.

"S-Shomti? Is that you?" He turned, his eyes almost glazed but quickly returning to his former appearance when they had been talking. Shortly afterward he dodged a monkey's spear.

"Kinda busy right about now. Talk to the other guy." He shouted, crushing the phalanges and metatarsals of a primate's foot before bringing his own footpaw, undamaged except for a slightly infected toe that was no fault of his opponents, up into the guard's crotch. "Okay, if you could help now, that'd be great. Yeah." Then, mere seconds later as he snapped a guard's neck, he pulled the communicator from his pocket. "You bloody well done yet, Bentley?"

"Murray is being lowered as we speak. I see you seem to have picked your own plan; at least it works." Shomti crushed a mountain goat's ribs with a single strike, then lunged forward and buried his dagger in the unfortunate security personnel's chest for an instant.

"I blame Rajan. Not my idea." A pause, then, "Hey Neyla, we still up for that dance later?" If Carmelita hadn't been busy throwing handcuffs on anyone who moved against Shomti, she would have turned green with envy and probably "accidentally" stunned her partner by trying to shoot a guard behind her. As it was, Shomti's question to the tigress went unnoticed by her partner, so she was free to answer.

"If we can find the time when we meet next, you're on. Oh, and you're right, it is diamond." Shomti grinned a little as he snapped a goat's neck, noticing from the corner of his eye that Murray was cutting the Wings loose now and was mostly done with the first.

"I knew it; too much fire to be glass, but not enough for it to be silicon carbide. It's very fetching." They had, in the confusion of the brawl, ended up next to each other somehow, and he jabbed one arm forward to crush another monkey's temple with the pommel of his dagger. This time he overpowered his strike without thinking, and it was far from bloodless as the weak point of the skull splintered and the cerebral fluid ran out the side. That monkey would not live to see another day; probably, he wouldn't live to hit the ground. If he had, Shomti didn't notice as he raised his knee, straightened it, and thereby propelled his heel into a guard's chest and fractured most of the rhino's ribs. Very clean strike.

"I had a feeling you'd like it. I'm glad, because the diamond itself was one pretty penny. But you really can't admire it in its full glory with just a glimpse whenever I speak... perhaps you could explore it with your tongue?" She brought her whip across a guard's throat, the tiny blades on it slicing into the guard's carotid and causing a spurt from the artery.

"Another time, Neyla. I'm kinda busy, if you hadn't noticed." He took another quick glance at Murray, who was nearly done with the second Wing now, and then whipped his blade across a primate's neck. The honed edge parted flesh from bone, and very nearly severed the head entirely from its shoulders. "Hey, you. It's nearly time to go. I give it another thirty seconds. Now, Neyla, if you'll excuse me, I'll see you later. Carmelita, I'm afraid I must take my leave. Do me a favor and arrest these scumbags, will you?" The vixen nodded and, having run out of handcuffs, pulled out her shock pistol. This was presumably to shock the guards into a stupor so they wouldn't be able to run, a rather sensible idea. He wasn't positive where she whipped the gun from, but it was apparently not too far from her fingertips as it was invisible one second and knocking a rhino out the next. She pivoted to face where Rajan had been reverted to a slump by Shomti's footpaw... only to find that the great cat was nowhere to be found. She scanned the ballroom to no avail, and continued clocking the guards and several suspicious guests when it was clear that he was gone and had no intention of returning.

Shomti, meanwhile, had departed along with Sly. Murray was up on the roof with the Clockwerk Wings, and in the process of bringing them down while Bentley covered him with the RC chopper. Several times there were close calls as a rhino was bombed as his hand was pulling back to launch a sword at the corpulent hippo, but there were no real mishaps before Shomti showed up. From that point on, though, things went downhill whether the gang realized it or not, because as he caught up with Murray and Bentley, he noticed a third set of footsteps. Sly's, his, and... who else would be running? Murray wouldn't be able to run, Bentley was in the van, so he wasn't running... the guards wouldn't be able to keep up, they never could... wasn't Neyla back in the palace? Yes, Shomti knew she was, and she wouldn't have left. Besides, the footsteps were too heavy to be—Oh, wait. Rajan had left. What if he wasn't trying to get away, what if he was pursuing the thieves that had ruined his ball?

"Sly, hurry! I'm going the long way around, don't let Murray leave! There's someone tailing us!" Sly's head shot back over his shoulder, saw Rajan behind Shomti—as Shomti knew he would—and, after a second's hesitation that the fox barely noticed, nodded and sped off in a separate direction.

"Take care of him!" Shomti would have shouted back, but Sly was gone into an alleyway somewhere, so Shomti couldn't have directed his voice to him if he tried. Instead, he swerved to the right. He assumed Rajan, not being able to follow Sly, would swerve into the alleyway after Shomti. Of course he was right, and since Rajan knew the layout of the area—it was his palace, after all—Shomti couldn't hope to outrun him. He didn't hope to in the first place. No, what Shomti intended to do was incapacitate Rajan by any means necessary. In fact death would be preferable, but he knew it wasn't likely. As the buildings raced by, or the combatants raced by the buildings, it was hard to tell, Shomti ran through what could happen. He was expecting a fight with a much larger, much slower, much stronger opponent than he himself was. Rajan was huge, in fact, and as Shomti ran he cast his eyes over his shoulder to assess his enemy.

There had been a nagging problem in his mind... if Rajan hadn't been knocked out back in the ball, then why hadn't he attacked Shomti then? Certainly not because he didn't think he could win, because he was there. Was it because he couldn't win as he was, but needed to go and get something, then? Perhaps... that object in his left hand which hadn't been there at the ball? A steel-colored pump of some kind, it seemed... beating rhythmically... spines on it pushing out with every thump...

The Clockwerk Heart. _It can shoot lightning, Shomti! Get the Hell out of its range, or you're dead!_ He heard himself shout in his mind, a similar voice, albeit different in resonance. Probably how he sounded before he had this body... what did he look like again? That didn't matter. As it was he'd get fried if he didn't listen to his mind, because he now could see the energy building up around it like the sun's corona, even if it wasn't half as bright. Meanwhile, he'd reached a dead-end in his run, and turned to face Rajan to make sure he wasn't advancing anymore. As a singular stroke of good luck, however, he did happen to have his two knives out and at the ready.

"You... you have ruined my ball!" Shomti cast his eyes about the alley. Something to get him out. Unfortunately, there was no such thing, and he was getting closer to being fried by Rajan's gaze alone, not to mention the cold metallic organ that was threatening to unleash a bolt of negatively charged plasma in Shomti's general direction at any second. "You have stolen my Wings!" This time, it really did discharge, and Shomti was barely able to duck, his chin grating against the stony tiling. "And you have tarnish my good name! You are right to kneel!" Shomti watched the heart, a glow steadily building. _It takes five to ten seconds, and continues in a relatively straight line._ How did he know that much about the Heart? Never mind how much he knew, he had to figure out how to take it from Rajan.

"I'm not kneeling to you, Rajan, I'm dodging because you're too afraid to fight me like a man. But you aren't a man, are you, you're just a big, pathetic, street-kitten that stole enough money to get some Chinese labor together and build a palace, am I right?" Too long; another bolt was unleashed, and Shomti felt it singe his left hand. "Oh, bloody—!" He clenched his teeth as he looked down at the burn. It wasn't that bad—only second-degree, which was good—but it hurt like nothing else he'd had happen to him. He'd had broken bones, he'd had much larger cuts, but nothing hurt like this. It was as though the bolt did more damage to his mind than it did to his hand itself... but he steeled himself and looked Rajan in the eyes. It had been two seconds, he had another three... plenty of time. He shifted his weight back, onto his feet, and pushed as hard as he could, about half of his remaining stamina, just trying to get to Rajan as fast as he could. It was a ten foot leap; he would normally be able to make it easily; however, with the searing pain it took all his concentration to reach his opponent.

Two seconds left.

Rajan seemed shocked that Shomti could still function with such a wound, and his lips appeared to be forming words, but the vulpine that clutched Rajan's death in each hand was still too focused on his task to understand. He landed nearly on his face at the tiger's feet, and took advantage of this by plunging his right-hand dagger deep into the corresponding calf in front of him. This gave him some modicum of joy, the bloodcurdling scream issued bringing a hesitant grin to his face before he pushed himself up.

One second left.

He was standing, didn't know exactly what to do, but from here his body took over. Rajan somehow seemed to think that he was invincible because he had the Heart, and the pain in his leg had lowered his guard completely. He just wasn't expecting to be able to feel pain, let alone pain caused by this fox and his letter openers. Meanwhile, Shomti's right hand was a blur as it whipped up to slash through Rajan's left shoulder—the clavicle was severed, the only connection point of the pectoral girdle to the axial skeleton, causing the whole arm to simply collapse down uselessly—before he drove it into the wrist holding the weapon that had rendered his left hand next to unusable in this conflict. If Rajan's howl before had been bloodcurdling, this would have boiled blood from a mile away, so great was the pain and hatred channeled into it. And with that, the cold Heart of hate fell to the ground, and Shomti paused, panting before his hand came up once more, whipping across Rajan's neck.

"This is my tribute to the Lord of the Hills." There was blood all over his tuxedo, his left dagger was chipped and probably cracked from its impact with the tiles when he fell, and he was in immense agony from a relatively tiny burn, simply spanning the back of his left hand. But Rajan was dead, and he had the Heart of Clockwerk. It was all he could do to drop to his knees, and pull out his communicator to talk to Sly... apparently they were still in the van waiting for him. At least they didn't abandon him. "Sly..." He had a hard time breathing, and it had to come out in short bursts as he picked up the Heart and put it in his pack. It seemed a lot smaller in his hands rather than Rajan's, as though it wished to remain hidden. "Rajan... He's dead... Clockwerk's Heart... it's here... I'll keep it for you... but I can't... can't exactly get to you... just yet... better leave... without me... got it?... I'll find you..." If there was a response, Shomti didn't hear it... because of the shock pistol leveled at his forehead.

______________________

Heh. See what I mean about the plot? This time I promise it won't take me more than... five years to update. I promise. But I warn you, I've got big things in store for the next chapter.


	6. The Twisted Turns of Fate

The Twisted Turns of Fate

"Shomti, assuming that's your real name, you are under arrest for second degree manslaughter. You have the right to remain silent, but if you choose not to exercise this right everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney... well, of course you can afford an attorney. Drop your weapons and raise your hands." Shomti rolled his eyes and looked up, opening his hands and raising them above his head.

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you, Carmelita. You and I both know that Rajan was a terrible man who effected the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands, of relatively innocent people. Sometimes people like that have to go." Carmelita's eyes were hard, but he could see evidence of tear tracks.

"Was there nothing special between us, Shomti...? I could help you, I know a way that you could get out of—" Shomti shook his head.

"No, Carmelita. I'm not the one for you. But I guess I'm too good an actor for it to have turned out well, for either of us. Besides, it was me. I killed Rajan. Want to use that in court?"

Neyla chose this opportune time to drop in, her whip at the ready. "No need, Shomti. You're coming into custody with me. See, the Contessa has already arranged it. I've known I'd be arresting you since Paris." Carmelita's eyes widened.

"Paris...? You don't mean... the fourth member of..." She looked at Shomti again, and he nodded towards his knives, their golden pommels glinting as a clear symbol of the Cane. Her eyes followed his, until finally it clicked in her head. "Shomti... you're... a criminal."

"Through and through. Sometimes the law becomes counterproductive to justice. And I think you'll find that out soon... all too soon." The Contessa, in all her disgustingly spidery majesty, marched around the corner to find a scene that, by all appearances, she expected fully.

"Arrest them, Contessa. Shomti for grand larceny and two hundred fifty-six assorted cases ranging through theft and identity fraud to manslaughter and murder. Carmelita... as an accomplice to all these crimes and any others committed by the Cooper Gang since she has been on their tail. She's been in league with them the whole time." Both foxes' eyes widened, but only Carmelita actually said anything.

"You slimy traitor! You set me up, you and Shomti!" Shomti, of course, shrank back. He most certainly did not set Carmelita up, and wouldn't have if he could.

"As you'll remember, Contessa, Carmelita was found dancing with Shomti during the ball. This was presumably as a distraction, as later on she was to dance with Sly himself in disguise while the Wings were being cut away and lifted. This never occurred due to the brawl Sly and Shomti found themselves in, during which Shomti took the lives of five innocents."

"If I may interject, they were hardly innocent. Nobody in that ball was but Carmelita. They worked for a spice lord, a crime boss. People like that... do you honestly think they're innocent?" Neyla ignored this outburst just as perfectly as she had Carmelita's.

"As we agreed, I will take Shomti to a penitentiary area near where I live so I can question him directly, and you will take Carmelita for questioning. It is likely that the rest of the Cooper Gang is in the area; do your best to find them." Shomti resigned himself to defeat, and looked around just once more, his eyes landing on Carmelita. She was crushed, utterly down-trodden by her arrest. And the way her gaze burned holes through his soul whenever it chanced to land on him told him that she blamed it all on him.

"Carmelita... it wasn't me. I didn't do this. I killed Rajan and those other men, I manipulated you, I intended to steal the Wings, but I didn't mean for this to happen. This time you have to trust me." Her vivid green eyes landed on his, seeming venomous in their animosity despite the tenderness behind them.

"I can't trust you." It was about then that Neyla cracked Shomti over the head with the butt of her whip, and everything went black for him. So cold, so dark... all he was aware of was a pain in his left hand, throbbing even as his mind failed him and he could think of nothing but the pain. It slowly ebbed away, but even so he couldn't stop his mind from dwelling on it... at least by the time he woke up it was bearable.

He leapt to his feet, dully aware of a throbbing in his hand that seemed to follow the quickening pulse of his heart. There was a slight pressure against it, and now that he thought about his neck had something pressing against it. A bandage made sense for his hand, but his neck hadn't sustained any injuries. In order to resolve this conflict in his head, his right hand rose slowly to his neck, almost afraid of what he'd find there. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew what it was.

Around his neck was an iron collar, heavy enough that he knew he had no hope of breaking it, and now as he calmed enough to study his surroundings he knew what it was for. A thick steel chain was quite solidly attached to a half-ring welded onto the collar, and while his eyes followed his restraint to its root his mind worked furiously to figure out exactly what he could do to get himself out of that situation. Once he found what he was chained to, though, he decided there was no way for force to get him out. There, in the middle of the room, a very large, solid-looking anchor held the chain down quite effectively. Huge bolts held that anchor to the floor, the hardwood covering of which parted around the thing to reveal a concrete foundation beneath.

There was absolutely no way to force his way out; even assuming he could get the collar off, he couldn't dig his way out, and all doors were definitely locked. Not that his chain was long enough to reach them; it barely permitted him to stand. The reason for this became apparent as he dropped to the floor in defeat and looked around at the other aspects of his surroundings. It appeared to be a living room, with a couch a few feet away. This was a taunt directed at him, and he knew it: the couch was obviously just outside his reach, too far for him to sit on it. And... looking at the feet of it, he noticed it had been bolted to the floor. Just inside his reach was a table, with a few things that suggested the living room was used as just that, a living room. This wasn't bolted down, and he took his time looking at everything on it, running through his mind what each object could be used for. There were no keys, and nothing he could use as a lockpick, so he abandoned it to continue his search. Aside from a few paintings and a refrigerator—again outside his reach—the only thing of interest was a television set. It wasn't on, and he got the feeling that even were he to lie down and stretch out his feet he wouldn't reach any of the buttons. That was annoying. He abandoned that as well, and picked up an unsolved Rubik's Cube from the table to help him think. As he did so, stretching out his left hand unintentionally, he felt a pang in it that reminded him of exactly what had happened. He dropped the cube to stand and look himself over.

His side-pack was untouched, and in it he felt a pulsing sensation... the Heart was safe. Neyla had either not searched him, or decided to let him keep it. But a more interesting factor was that, as he pulled it out, he felt his own heartbeat quicken... a change paralleled in the metallic organ before him. It was aligned with his cardiac tissue somehow, pumping in unison with his organic heart. An unusual sensation, to be sure, and one that prompted his mind to be drawn back to the throbbing pain in his left hand. Was it following his heartbeat... or that of Clockwerk? The thought was as painful as the back of his hand. It didn't feel like there was any physical wound left to aggravate, as it wasn't tender to the touch. But he couldn't see through his bandage, so he pressed one finger under the gauze, lifting it up and stretching it over his wrist and off. There was no physical wound there, no...

But there was something of a scar. The black fur on his hand had taken... something of a pattern. Some of it had turned a steely blue-gray... an eerie reminder of the color of the alloy forming the Heart in his other hand. But the thing that made his heart jump was not the color, but the shape of the pattern... it resembled an idealized heart, such as one would find on a Valentine's Day card, but it was sharp and angular, and at every corner a spike would jut out an inch or so. At its wicked bottom, where it would come to a fine point, a much longer, thin spike of the hairs continued down his forearm, to some indistinct spot just past his wrist, where it terminated in a thin point that, to his eyes, ended composed of just one single grayed hair. He sincerely hoped that when he shed the fur would grow in the right color, but it didn't seem likely.

He stared at the design on his hand for a while, his eyes numbed by the way its very appearance seemed to suggest Clockwerk's lack of a truly functioning heart. Then, unwilling to look at the weapon that had done this to him, he pushed the Heart back into his pouch and sat down by the Rubik's Cube. Pausing for thought and looking at the TV, he furrowed his brow and looked back at the table.

There was a remote control on it.

Whoever it was that had set this place up wasn't thinking very hard... or perhaps they hadn't considered the necessary precautions because Shomti had been unconscious for a while. Whichever it was, he had everything he needed to entertain himself. He turned on the TV, flipped through the channels until he found something rather entertaining, and picked up the Rubik's Cube.

________________________

Neyla opened the door of her house and walked in, stretching and hitting her head on a nearby wall with relief. "Ugh... I hate it at police headquarters... Why does no-one understand that I don't want any bloody coffee?" She took a moment to remove her shoes and police jacket before stepping into the next room and perking her ears up at the noise. "Strange... I don't remember leaving the telly on... And even if Shomti were awake, he couldn't have turned it on." As she walked forward into the next room, however, she realized that she was wrong. Shomti was, indeed, awake, and he had most certainly turned the television on. Not only that, but the blasted Rubik's Cube she'd been working on for weeks was in his hands, getting twisted in such ways as to make interesting patterns on its surface before he returned it to normal and tossed it up to her. The surprised tigress caught it, and looked at him dumbfounded for a second or two.

"I was prepared to like you for a little while there, back in India, but now you've done it. You shouldn't have gotten Carmelita arrested. While I don't particularly care for her, she didn't do anything." Neyla rolled her eyes, turning off the TV and snatching the remote from Shomti's paw.

"She'd have gotten in the way. Oh, well, your knowledge of things like that is gone anyway; you wouldn't understand. Tell me, Shomti, do you remember anything at all about the Clockwerk part that gave you your scar...? The one in your pocket, perhaps?" Shomti stiffened as he realized she knew about it. Had decided to let him keep it, in other words.

"I choose to exercise my right to shut the Hell up." Neyla patted him gently on the head, an action to which he retaliated by gripping her wrist forcefully. He would have dug his claws into her if he had really wanted to hurt her, but because she had at least bandaged him and seemed somewhat concerned he didn't. She, being nearly as intelligent as he was, recognized this and tore her hand out of his paw with a grin on her face that betrayed her cunning.

"You don't have that right anymore, Shom. But feel free to try and not talk, you will eventually. Remember, I let you keep that Heart. Maybe there's a reason for that which you don't know...?" Neyla smiled, crossing her arms and sitting on the couch before she fiddled with the Rubik's Cube and quickly unsolved it while trying to figure out how Shomti managed to get it into those unusual patterns. He'd even made a flower pattern once, and he seemed to know exactly what he was doing since he always returned it to complete. Shomti, meanwhile, smiled a little as she twisted it in vain, her brows furrowing the longer she fiddled. He rather liked seeing her unable to do something; it justified that he was, in fact, better than her at something. She happened to glance up and see him grinning, tossing it to him and frowning. "Alright, you. How's it done?"

"What do you mean? I haven't the foggiest idea." He said, his smirk stretching as he picked up the Rubik's Cube and fiddled with it a bit, careful not to actually do anything that would really help. He knew that would bug Neyla more than anything else he could have done.

"Well, Shom, if you don't want to show me, I guess the dinner I was going to give you is just going to have to wait." Heh. Threatening him with a lack of food... well, he supposed it wouldn't hurt. Besides, just having gotten her to admit she needed his help for this was a huge boost to his pride, and she must have realized it.

"Throw in a game of chess and I'll show you how to solve this." He knew he wasn't too incredibly good at chess, but he was ready to beat her. She lacked foresight, and he figured he'd be able to predict her moves; besides, being better than her in several different intellectual fields would subtly put her in a position where she would probably end up being under his thumb instead of vice versa. If he knew how to beat her as far as chess went, he knew how to manipulate her.

"Fine, but if you're going to add a condition so am I. You have to come with me on a walk." That would be annoying. On a collar, and a leash most likely, he'd have a hard time making an imposing figure. But... it'd give him a chance to look around, learn the surroundings, and plan his method of exit.

"Alright. How about if I win, we go out to eat?" Neyla winked slyly, and Shomti got the feeling there was something that he didn't particularly like about her expression. Something... smug, almost. Like she had predicted him.

"Or the winner picks the restaurant. That okay with you? After all, it'd be nice to go out to eat, and I can't exactly trust you to win... now can I?" Shomti smiled, processing in his head all that he knew about Neyla. It wasn't as much as he'd have liked it to be, but it was enough to figure that she'd be doing the exact same with her mental profile of him. He decided that was how she knew what was coming from him, and settled on throwing her for a loop to assert his mental dominance.

"I'm sure you can't, Neyla." She smiled, but then hesitated as her mind processed the words, expecting something else from him. Anything but a confirmation of what she'd said. "After all, I don't play chess too much anyway. I'd say I don't even own a chess set, but that's almost a given. I haven't been in this universe long enough to get one."

"Yes... that's... actually, that's what I had been thinking. Shomti, you are truly full of surprises. Just don't think that'll help you; I can surprise people like that too. And it just proves that I was on the right track anyway." Shomti gave her a knowing smile. "That too. You're trying to cover up that I was on the right track by making it seem as though it was a trick to make me self-confident. Trust me, I know more than you think... Stalker." Shomti blinked, not recognizing the nickname. He'd heard it before, perhaps, possibly even in reference to himself... but he couldn't think for the life of him where he got it. Didn't matter anyway; what did a nickname matter anyway?

"Or maybe I think more than you know, Neyla. I could have planned _all_ this." He gestured around the room, at his collar and chain, at the anchor holding him to the floor. Neyla smiled at this, cocking her head to the side.

"You truly are witty. But you didn't plan this because, as you cleverly showed with your wordplay, you are a very excellent duelist of words. You would never balk when presented with a challenge unless you truly were unarmed, as you say; and if you recall, you did just that in the ballroom. Why would you be that distracted if not by amnesia? And, if distracted by amnesia, could you really plan something as complicated as this...?" Another logical deduction. Neyla was truly a highly intelligent individual; Shomti appreciated the intellectual duel. The only problem now was... that she had made a fatal error. Well... not fatal to her, but fatal to their game. The knowledge of her slip-up brought a smile to Shomti's face, and when he seemed as though he'd not tell, his smug look finally got the best of the tigress across from it. "Out with it, Shom. I take it you know something I don't?" Her tone said she doubted it.

"No... but you know something you shouldn't. Who told you I had amnesia, anyway? To the best of my knowledge... no-one. I haven't even told my closest friends and yet you know exactly what happened. Logically then there is some connection between you and my amnesia that is hidden quite well. I have absolutely no idea what it is, Neyla, but trust me... trust me." Neyla's confidence seemed to wilt when Shomti pointed out her flawed arguments. Or... not flawed, but revealing. "I will stay here as long as it takes, slowly learning everything there is to know about you, and I will uncover your every secret. Even this shall be laid bare to my heartless search of your mind; even this." Neyla was clearly rattled now. Shomti rolled his head to the side and gave her a smart, smug look. "I win this duel of wits. We were going for a walk, Neyla?"

"Hmph. I see you truly were unarmed that day; and I see why you positively threw a fit at prospect of playing at the level of an ordinary intellect against someone like me. You're too used to winning."

"Ah, yes... the one who knows only victory must be a sore loser. That could be said of either of us, Neyla. Now that I have won again, you're throwing the same hypothetical fit because you, too, have as yet known only victory." Neyla shrugged, and Shomti let a smile curl the corners of his lips. "Which means that I'm overall better than you, having bested you physically and intellectually." The cat shrugged, turning to face Shomti head-on now.

"There's still one thing you've not taken into account." Shomti rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

"Emotion, yes, I left that out because I won before you knew I existed. Sociopaths can't play that game, Neyla." Once more the cat shrugged, a coy smile working its way across her face. Shomti didn't like the look of that. It suggested an ace in the hole, a bit of unknown information. Made him feel like he was playing against someone who'd stacked the deck, frankly, and someone with more information was almost guaranteed to win at an intellectual level like hers.

"Mm, assumptions assumptions, Shom. Maybe I hurt more than you know, and your heart less than you think." Shomti's attention was drawn back to the Heart in his pocket, but he didn't let himself draw his gaze off Neyla long enough to check the obviously irrational thought that it was no longer there. It was, however, a distracting enough comment that his reply was a bit hastily thought out.

"Perhaps you cannot tell between pleasure and pain, something which would surely cause your greater level of hurt and my supposed lower one." Shomti shrugged, knowing that his statement could easily be shot down by someone like Neyla. He decided to strengthen it with an off-hand comment meaning nothing. "Take that as you will." Obviously she'd see through that as well. The tigress laughed a little, in a somewhat derisive tone, and Shomti made a sort of "Urkh" face. "Yes. That's all I can come up with right now. Not like it really matters, I guess. You're cheating anyway."

"Cheating, Shom...? How could one possibly cheat in a battle of wits?" _Hm. In other words, he realized I know things he doesn't._

"The same way I could cheat in a conversation about, say, the method of travel between universes." A carefully designed attempt to make her slip up and say something about how she had connections there. He still remembered how he did it himself, but he was fairly sure that if he tried it he'd be unable due to the collar around his neck. Tugging himself out of the universe would be difficult if he had to tug himself out of the collar first. Neyla, however, was too careful to make a mistake there. Forfeit the battle to continue the war.

"Well, I can't deny that. Let's go for our walk, shall we?" She said with a smile. Shomti motioned towards the anchor holding him down, and Neyla laughed a little. "Fifteen digit combination. I suppose I needn't worry about you reading it over my shoulder and memorizing it..." She shrugged, turning her back on him anyway to block the small red read-out screen. "It took me long enough to learn anyway." She muttered, punching in the code and being rewarded with a blip of some sort and a bit of clanking noise. "Now, if you'd be SO kind as to accompany me to my room, I'll get a leash handle. A special one." This taunt, something that wouldn't be out of place in a room of preschoolers, piqued Shomti's curiosity if only to know more about the security he'd be under on this walk.

"Special in what ways?" He said, standing to follow her. The house was not large; he could tell why once she opened the door to her bedroom. Artwork of every form lined the walls and was displayed on shelves. Mostly, from what he could tell, they were studies and examples of pathos. One carving from some kind of mostly-black rock was of a father cradling his daughter... very African to Shomti's eyes, though it did seem a tiny bit out of place seeing muzzles and ears on the piece. He didn't really know what it ought to look like, but it certainly wasn't that. He was fairly certain, at least.

"Oh... it's wired to an electric shocker in your collar. Twenty-five feet away, and you get the pleasure of writhing in agony." She said in a singsong voice. If her talk of special leash handles had been for preschoolers, this was definitely a tone a normal person would use around an infant. Neither of them were normal people, so no harm was done by her lack of normal people or infants. Besides, the content matter of the sentence was a little bit more mature than one would normally utter around infants. "Hmmm... it IS here somewhere." She said, bending over in what was not immediately apparent as a construed manner, her tail poking up as she showed her rump off to Shomti. The fox, however, was busy examining a few of the statues in the room.

"Your living room is practically Spartan in comparison with this." He paused, his eyes glazing as he looked at a painting. "Wait... this universe had a Van Gogh? And you got one of his paintings?" He said, examining it carefully. All he could recall of the eccentric artist was that he chopped off his own ear to get a self-portrait right.

"Oh, no. That's not a Van Gogh." Neyla said, a bit irked that her gesture to try and allure Shomti had been missed. She had, of course, found the handle a long time ago. "Nobody important. Nice, though, isn't it?" She said, stepping next to Shomti. It was strangely awkward having her this close to him. He instantly had an urge to move away.

"I told you. I was prepared to like you, but you lost your chance, Neyla. Besides, sociopaths can't play that game."

_Well... I've been learning the rules. The more I know, the more I want to learn. Right now, I want to learn you, Shomti. Play the game all you want, I'll win eventually... _She grinned a little as she clipped the leash handle on the end of his chain and led him outside, stretching in a very cat-like manner in the sun.

"What, no blindfold?" He said sarcastically as Neyla tugged him. The collar jerked at his neck, very nearly giving him whiplash as they started to walk. He made a point of checking the street names and which house he was in.

"Nope. I know you're too smart to think about running. Even if you learn the terrain, do you know what country you're in? Do you know what time of year it is? What city this is?" Neyla laughed and shook her head as Shomti processed all that information.

"It's, ah... spring-ish. I see your point. Well, lead on." _And now the game shall begin in full... _He cocked his head as they continued walking, mostly in silence broken by a few attempts by either one to start a conversation along a certain train of thought. Shomti had the goal of inducing Neyla to talk about his past and how she knew of it, and Neyla had the goal of talking to Shomti about the Gang.

There was fifteen minutes of this "game" before Shomti sighed. "I give. This walk will be more entertaining if we're less taciturn." He paused. "I do like your tongue piercing. And my offer to dance still stands if we run into a song I like. Your turn." Neyla cocked her head.

"I agree... besides, getting information I don't need is better than not getting any at all." She clapped her hands together with a chuckle and looked at the area around her. "Here we are. The park. Are you one for hiking? Or, rather, walks through the woods. Where nobody can see a thing we do." She said, winking at Shomti. His face remained placid. Not cold, at the moment, but not reactive to her flirts, which were not missed. "Well... alright. Let's go, then." She muttered, more than a bit put out. And with that, they headed past the entrance to the path. It was, clearly, not beaten as much as the other walkways, and nobody passed through here regularly. Shomti guessed Neyla was the only one who walked it often. Here, beneath the eves, he supposed anything was possible, if only he'd let it happen. So... let the game begin.


	7. Winner Takes All

Hey, everyone. It's been a while, and this is my shortest chapter yet--I know, that's terrible of me, but I can't help it--but I have an update for you all! I know not a lot of people read this... . But seriously, I'm going to try and write a lot more on this. I'm thinking about becoming a US Marine when I turn seventeen--I'm almost certain I want to--so I'll probably have to finish this before then, or you will all get neglected for three months while I'm in boot, then I'll quickly write a chapter before I get shipped off to my MOS training. And then I'll--hopefully--get deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan, so there'll be not much means of publishing then. I'll still write, I guess, but you'd better hope I get this done before I enlist! Oh, by the way, I don't own Sly Cooper, Neyla, or any of the other characters. Except Shomti. And that other OC that I stuck in the second chapter somewhere. *shrugs* Anyway, without further ado, this is my latest offering. Please don't eat me.

**Winner Takes All**

"I guess here's a good place to stop, right Shomti?" Neyla said, smiling warmly and turning towards the fox. Since they had left, he'd discovered that not only would the collar shock him if he got too far from Neyla, there was a control on the leash and a remote she carried in her pocket to do the same. So far, it had been used to make sure he wasn't not silent the whole time they walked. She was reaching for the button, so he decided to answer.

"Wherever you'd like is fine with me." Indifferent, but it would do. Neyla smiled again, sitting down on a conveniently placed rock. They were just off the path... about twenty-five feet. Shomti was aware of the reason for this, of course, but expected her to tell him if he didn't inquire. He did not, and she proceeded to do just that.

"You know why I like this place? Nobody can see or hear you even if they come by, it's nice and sunny, and yet the path is just over there." Yep. This was getting predictable. Next she'd move up close to him and wrap one arm around his shoulder... to which he responded frigidly. "Alright, Shomti, I have a few questions about the Cooper Gang."

"I'm not betraying my friends." Neyla clicked her tongue, almost as though Shomti were a child who'd answered incorrectly and she was about to correct him. "I know. Call them what you will, but they're my friends. So piss off." Her paw darted to the remote, and Shomti flinched as she gave him a two or three second burst. "I'm not taking that back."

"That's fine. I'll just keep zapping you every time you insult me. So, I have a few questions about your... friends." The word dropped from her tongue like a leaden balloon, and seemed just as out of place. "Where are they headed now?" Shomti rolled his eyes sluggishly towards her, his mind dulled from the electricity earlier.

"Look, if you want to make me talk, that's not the way to go about it, zapping me if I don't answer and—urkh!" He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his paws into fists. "And expecting my cooperations from fear of pain. I don't fear pain. So, Neyla, ask away, but you'll get nothing from me. After all, I don't know where they're going. How would I?"

"They must have shared some information on their plans with you." He noticed the tigress's paw lingering on the button to send a few thousand volts of Hell through his veins, and he paused.

"They did not." Five seconds of torment, and he realized when she finished that he had fallen over onto the ground. "I was expecting something a little more friendly, after our conversation on the way up here. You're full of surprises, aren't you?" He managed to pant out, a wry grin stretching across his face. "Normally this is when the good cop rescues me from your torture... not very fitting behavior for an officer such as yourself."

"I do what I must. Well, would you like to rephrase your last answer, or shall I send you another shock? You must have noticed, I'm escalating it as we go. I think that fifteen seconds is the highest I should try today..." Shomti remained silent, and after a few moments of silence Neyla clicked her tongue as she had before. "Wrong answer."

Shomti woke up no more than seven seconds later to find her dragging him up onto the rock again... the tension in his muscles from being forced to contract continuously like that was getting to be too much for him. The fox vaguely recalled that tetanus did the same sort of thing, tensing all the muscles at once and not letting them relax, eventually resulting in a whole-body cramp that could last for days on end if left untreated. Previously, he'd thought it was something he would have been able to endure. Now he was sure he would go crazy in that situation. And right now, he was as tired as if he'd been running for the past ten or fifteen minutes. So it came as a relief when she let him set his head in her lap. Or rather, set his head there for him; he was still quite unable to move from his fatigue. A few seconds passed before he muttered under his breath, "I'm still not going to tell you anything. I don't know anything important anyway."

"Their names...? Even that would be plenty. Of course we know Sly's name, and--" Shomti phased the rest of her words out... her body felt hot against his fur. Was he cold or was she really that warm? He couldn't tell anymore. His hand felt cold... his left hand. Instinctively, he pressed it against her leg to try and warm it, but the feeling of chill pervaded. "Shom, are you even listening to me?"

"Mrr? No. I'm sleepy." A pause, then he looked up at her with one eye. "You look funny from down here." Neyla almost laughed out loud at his suddenly childlike attitude, and couldn't restrain a bit of a chuckle. "And you're warm." He muttered, closing his eye again and nuzzling into her thigh. "I still won't tell you anything."

"Hmph. I should have expected that." Shomti shrugged indifferently, simply enjoying the warmth of her body against his. He was too tired to care too much about anything else. "You really like my tongue-ring?" It had been either a few seconds or a few minutes since she had last spoken; the fatigue in Shomti's muscles had kept him from keeping time as well as he knew he should have been. He may have even fallen asleep at some point.

"Mf." The fox would have said more, but he was truly too exhausted to do anything at all. And now with the addition of a pillow, he was unwilling to stay totally awake. At least half of his brain was quite gone right now; probably the left side, which controlled mathematical reasoning and logic. That explained his musings on the pattern of red shapes behind his eyelids. Neyla, on the other hand, was very much awake, albeit charmed somewhat by the semi-sleeping vulpine on her lap. She waited patiently, and in a few seconds he leaned up more and pointed his muzzle in the general direction of her head. "It's nice. Synthesized or natural?" Neyla laughed a little.

"Synthesized. It's still a diamond, no matter where it comes from. And it's less expensive this way. You should have guessed; there's no sentimental value in it for me." _Besides the fact that you like it, of course, and that you gave me the piercing in the first place._ "Of course, don't let on that I was cheap about it. If anyone asks, it's natural."

"Your secret's safe with me. And, I'd probably get synthesized too. Same reason." Any other secret or confidence and Shomti wouldn't pay any heed to her plea. But... this seemed to be a unique situation. He wasn't certain why, but in this case he felt compelled to oblige her. Anyway, he did like it, and it didn't matter whether the diamond was synthetic or not. It was just as beautiful; in fact, more so, because a synthetically made diamond wouldn't have any flaws... COULDN'T have any flaws.

"Hm-hmm... Shomti, you have fewer attachments than you let on. Don't you think it's not a REAL diamond...?" Neyla goaded, smiling and nudging Shomti's ribs. He'd have answered, but her hand found one of the many ticklish spots on his body: he'd always been sensitive to touch, but since the change he went through he was even more sensitive and he normally jumped whenever Sly touched him on the shoulder. As it was, Neyla's paw was pressing against a spot that made him want to squirm, leap away, attack the cause, and melt all at the same time. It was quite the interesting sensation, but in the end squirming won over the rest and he arched his back so much that he fell from her lap with an oomph as he landed on the ground. "Oh, are you ticklish?"

"No, Neyla, I prefer falling hard onto the cold hard ground over your nice, warm lap. Of course I'm ticklish. Don't do that!" This last, along with a yip of discomfort, was added as she reached down and, quite effectively, tickled him in various places with equally various results. He'd squirm, jump, make a face and kick her, or just sit there and raise his eyebrows at her, depending on the spot. "Alright. Are you happy, now that you've found all the points I'm ticklish at?"

"Why, no, Shom. Sociopaths don't get happy, remember?" _Which, I suppose, eliminates the possibility that I'm a true sociopath. It's all I can do to keep from smiling when you act like this... you never seem this happy with that Cooper gang._

"Hm. You know, that sounds almost like me. Except... I can be happy. Just not when I'm chained and held prisoner, I guess." _I... I'm lying right now. Why am I happy? I'm a prisoner, I am being interrogated, and if I died she wouldn't bat an eyelash unless someone was watching her. She's cold-blooded._ A pause, then, _She's got a pretty warm lap for someone that's cold-blooded._

"Well, Shom, would you like to come up here once more, or are you ready to continue our little game of twenty questions?" Shomti chuckled, and sat up, cracking his neck and spine.

"Only twenty? Sounds good. Let's get going, then. I can handle twenty more buzzes, if you're willing to carry me back." Neyla laughed and fingered the button on her leash handle.

"I remember your original body. How did you get that one?" _I see... getting straight to a major point. I suppose you're not familiar with voodoo... no, I'm certain you're not. It's not logical enough._

"A little birdy gave it to me. Hey, doesn't the other guy get to ask—Aack! Damn, I wish you'd warn me before pushing that—aargh. Fine. Be that way." He panted. Both the bursts were quick, but the electric shock left him out of breath nonetheless. "I don't remember, Neyla, and that's the truth. The first few weeks of being here are all a blur; I couldn't even tell you what I looked like if you asked." He braced himself for another shock, but got nothing. It took a moment, but eventually Neyla sighed and decided to move on to another question.

"Are you aware of how many guards you've murdered?"

"You know better than I. It's... more than six."

"247 by my count. The investigation came up with two hundred fifty even, but those extra three actually belonged to the strong-man in your gang. Your strikes look a lot like his in the aftermath—lots of broken bones and internal damage—but you have smaller hands, and use your feet more." Shomti let out a whistle. "Impressive, especially given how long you've been doing it. My own count is barely over four hundred, and I've been going at it for a couple of years now."

"I should have known. Carmelita know about your, ah, spelunking?" Neyla's head shook from side to side. "Should have known that too. How old are you, anyway?" He blurted out, wanting to get the question to her before she continued her interrogation.

"Oh, you know, old enough. And young enough, too." _Old enough to recognize a little boy with a crush... but still young enough to be interested anyway. "_But, Shomti, do you know how old YOU are...?" He made a short sound, sort of like "Hmph," with his nose, and remained silent. "Mhm. I see. Well, would you like to know?"

"It's not important. Age is immaterial anyway, or I like to think so." He paused, racking his brain for an old memory. "I... remember, a while back, people ignored me because of my age. I was young and a genius—"

"Yet nobody cared. Yes, I was a prodigy child too, Shomti..." Neyla seemed... serious, now. Sobered, perhaps, by remembering her childhood. "I grew up poor. In fact, I was poorer than I imagine you've ever had to go through. That's what held me back more than anything. I wasn't in the upper class, I wasn't even in the middle class... so I got ignored." Shomti slanted his eyes towards the ground. "Americans have a philosophy of how anyone can be anything, no matter who they are or where they come from. We didn't have that where I grew up. I had to get past social barriers... there was no legal way to do it. So, I got into crime, around the age of thirteen. It's the biggest mistake I ever made."

"I don't regret becoming a criminal." Neyla's cold eyes snapped up to Shomti's, locking into him and reading his soul. "The law is counterproductive at times." Neyla sighed, removing her eyes from Shomti's golden orbs and fiddling with a pebble she picked up from off the ground. She turned it in her hand, examining the patterns on its surface for a long time before dropping it and closing her eyes.

"You're a different breed of criminal, Shomti... there was no one like you when I got started. The Coopers hadn't been in India for... well, a very long time. I was forced to begin by pickpocketing and shoplifting, minor thefts, merely to feed myself. But I got caught, and not by the police. It would have been better if it were them, though, because it was an organized crime ring. THEY recognized me the way nobody else had..." She clenched her fists hard, one around Shomti's leash. "I mistook the value they put on my intellect for sentiment. The other girls of my age and with good looks were..." Shomti caught the glint of a tear in the cat's eye before she turned her head away. "Forced, into things that I do not care to remember. I would have been destined for a life much like that, but they saw my mind, and they used it. They whored me out for profit too. No, not the same way as the other girls, but there was no love in what they had me do. I planned things, raids and robbings, and had to steal my own food and anything else I needed. It was, they said, the way to live if you were to live in the Community. Here I was, learning the angles of banks and jewelers, pulling in hundreds of thousands for them, but living on whatever I could smuggle out of a store because they couldn't spare fifty dollars a week to feed me. I eventually ran away, and sold their information to a larger gang that had been looking to eliminate competition in the area.

"They were dead within the week, all of them, except the little girls... they hardly noticed the change, simply had new men collecting the money after each night of work." Neyla turned back towards Shomti. Though she showed no tears around her eyes, they were glinting with tears threatening to slide down her face. "I understand why Carmelita hates criminals. Sometimes I feel the same way, after seeing those criminals behaving so beastly." Shomti was about to say something, but he couldn't find the words that wanted to leave his mouth, so he simply extended an arm around Neyla and held her close to him. She did not resist, but she remained still, without setting her head upon his shoulder as he might have liked her to do. "S-so... that information fetched a nice price, and I went up to England. It was as far as I could afford to travel. I thought I would have some more money left when I arrived, but the housing proved to be so much more expensive that I was left stealing my food again. The local crime rings were not so ruthless as those in India, and I easily gained control of one. Manipulation always had been my strong suit... so, I gradually got enough money to start buying food instead of stealing it, and even opened up a savings account for the excess. I stayed there for a while, pulling a tidy profit from the crime ring and, over a year or two, becoming the most well-known and respected small-business boss in the area. The city, after all, wasn't big enough to have a substantial branch of the Mafia, so we gave them a percentage of our profits and all was well. They didn't interfere, and we left their jobs alone as well. Sure, they hit the bigger places, and we had to buy all our arms from them—the black market of the area was controlled by them, as it is everywhere—but it was minimal contact. I was in charge of the area.

"Then I turned eighteen, and I met one of my lackeys with a college degree. I didn't have many of those in my ring; in fact, I was really the only one that was intelligent at any significant level. I had, by now, saved up quite a lot of money, you see, so I hand-selected a high-ranking member of the local mafia to take over while I went to Oxford; she looked a lot like me, and I rarely showed my face to any but five people, so it was a very smooth transition, since the five guards all knew of the switch. Once at Oxford..." Neyla pulled her eyebrows together, and sighed softly as she twitched her tail and leaned against Shomti. "Once at Oxford, I tried to stop stealing and get out of crime. I had enough money to, I would soon have the education necessary for a career, but something now drove me to commit crimes. Occasionally I'd nick things from stores, just to see if I still could. It actually became a game with me, to see how big an object I could manage to steal. I once made it out with a baseball bat, you know." She chuckled, leaning her head against the vulpine's rather cushy shoulder and smiling up at him.

"Now how in the world did you manage that?" Another light chuckle escaped her lips, and he felt her body shake a little with the short breaths.

"I picked it up early while shopping and carried it around, then when I went to the bathroom I stayed in a long time so the cameras wouldn't catch me. A half an hour, in fact, coming out and washing my hands occasionally, then going back into a stall whenever the room wasn't occupied anymore. For appearances' sake." Shomti nodded, a smile creeping over his face. "Then I slipped it down my pants, the inside of the leg, and high-tailed it out of there before someone noticed the bulge. I wonder if the employees ever noticed that a bat got stolen, and if they managed to figure out how." Shomti smiled and shook his head in incredulity.

"Neyla, you're a genius. I'm sorry that your childhood was so difficult." At that, her face fell once more, and her eyes dropped to stare at the pockets on Shomti's pants.

"Well... I didn't just shoplift while in college. I also pickpocketed quite often... I was pretty good at it. The first time, I was expecting a catch of maybe ten pounds and an ID card. I ended up with five hundred and several credit cards. I cut up the credit cards, not stupid enough to make any orders with them, but the sheer amount of money from the wallet amazed me. I decided to try again, to see if that was normal. I ended up with even more that time... it turns out that there is a lot of money in Britain. So I got hooked on that, and of course I never was caught. But I still wanted more... and, homework was not something I'd had to put up with before, having never gone to school. I learned to read and write back in India, from the crime lords, in English and Swahili and a great many other languages. But I'd never been to a school... so the work was hard on me. I failed the first semester, because I could not keep up with the amount of writing I had to do, and the use of a computer was not something I'd been exposed to. Second semester, though, I manipulated other students into doing my homework for me. The method was rather complex, it involved telling each of them different things, but in the end I only had to move the work around, shifting it from person to person. I was good at that, and all of us got A's that semester, and the one after that, and after that. We went on until about a year ago, actually... Interpol found out about me, the way I had moved through various crime rings and made it to Oxford from the streets of India, and they busted my homework ring. They were going to put me behind bars, but a few words with the right people—something I'm very good at now—got me in. In court all I had to do was plead that I was too young to know what I was doing back then, and that looking back I saw it was wrong, a mistake, and I abhorred what happened in crime rings like those. That I wanted to help put them away. It worked, and I got a job there quite easily... honest police officers are so much easier to manipulate than the mob that I was used to dealing with, I nearly overdid it and was given a much higher up, conspicuous position than I wanted. They let me choose my department.

"I have an eye for the corrupt and the corruptible. It's part of my nature. So I decided to get placed with the most corrupt I could find, and the least corrupt. The Contessa, and your precious Carmelita, respectively." Neyla finished, smiling a little sarcastically on the last line and chuckling as the words left her lips.

"Not my precious, Sly's precious. Between the two of us, I'd rather she get incapacitated, if not for Sly's feelings for her. She's a hitch that needs to get removed somehow. But how you dealt with her was not how I'd go about it." He finished, looking down at the tigress.

"Hm. Well, it worked, and that's all I care about. So far, through all my life, I've been working with one criminal organization of some sort... would you like to know what my current affiliation is? The same as the Contessa's, it's more professional and elite than any other ring I've been a part of." Neyla teased, cocking her head and beaming widely, though there was an undercurrent of maliciousness.

"I think I can guess."

"Klaww Gang." Shomti nodded his head, eyes closed. That voice in the back of his head that had warned him during his fight with Rajan popped up once more, then flitted away once it was done._ She's been hunting down power her whole life. Neyla has had to work for it through the years, and she won't be satisfied until she has everything she can get. Clockwerk survived through the ages to hunt down the Coopers, and that is power she envies, power she needs. This Neyla wants to prove to the world that she is better than everyone in her way, and no matter how they keep her down she will always come out on top._

_She wants immortality._

"You're after Clockwerk's body, and his power. You won't get it. The Heart and I are... irrevocably intertwined. There's no chance that you could ever get it from me, and without it your plans for immortality are useless." Neyla seemed shocked. She seemed more than shocked, even. It appeared as though she were stricken, jolting stiff in Shomti's arms.

"How do you know this?" Even her voice was tense and strained, hostility barely concealed.

"I'll tell you in exchange for one thing. For my knowledge, I want yours. You have to tell me how you know my past, what it was to the best of your ability, and I want to know about the world I left for this one. Maybe you could even take me there. Acceptable?" Neyla's response was long in coming, but eventually she shook her head. It seemed, however, that there was great reluctance in the motion. "Until I get that from you, you'll never know."

"Fine, Shomti... You can keep your secrets. It doesn't matter what knowledge you hold, because you can't put anything into motion to stop my plans anyway. Let's go back... it's getting late. And I want to play that game of chess." _We've been playing, Shomti, and you've got me in quite the skewer. My, my... how the tables do turn sometimes. But the game's far from over, and the worst I can lose is a bishop, while you're tying up your queen. My move, and it had better be a good one, don't you think?_

So you see, there was no way for me to make it longer. I mean, I hit that, and everything snagged up. I did the best I could by adding to the section above it, but you just HAVE to leave that as the last note, to draw emphasis to it. ^^; Otherwise the wonderful last few paragraphs wouldn't have justice done to them. So, _se onr sverdar sitja hvass!_ Yes, I'm an Inheritance fanboy. If you don't like it, bugger off.


	8. Steal a Heart of Steel

Alright, so it's been a while, I know. Not too long, though, so I think I may actually be able to finish this story before I head off to boot camp. That's right! If you haven't read my profile, yes, I'm going to be joining the military soon as I hit seventeen. I'm going to be a US Marine, and so hopefully I can get this done before then. Just a disclaimer, I do not and never will own the Sly Cooper franchise, but I DO own Shomti, as he's my character. You're not allowed to use his name, character, or anything I create without my permission. So it's clear, I created him myself without anybody else's help, so nobody can claim full or partial ownership of his character. That said, read on, and I hope you enjoy the story!

Steal a Heart of Steel

Shomti rolled over on the floor, and accidentally ended up on top of his hand. The intense throb that action incurred instantly jolted him up. Some nights he wouldn't ever have a problem with that scar... other times, he would hardly get any sleep because he kept rolling the wrong way. This was one of the latter times, and it was beginning to get to him. The vulpine cast his eyes longingly at the couch, which was still bolted down too far for him to sleep on it. Many things had been added to his reach as Neyla and he had begun to understand each other, growing closer whether either one would admit it. They both wanted to think they were just using the other, when they both knew it was more than that. _Stockholm syndrome, _the voice in his head volunteered. It had become more prominent now than before, but whenever they spoke his hand was in great pain, by whatever coincidence. At least, since Rajan had scarred the fox._ It's when a captive begins to identify with their kidnapper, sometimes in a romantic way._

_I know what it is. I just don't think that's what THIS is._ Shomti paused, letting out a sigh as he ran his eyes over the feline's sleeping form. She'd decided to sleep on a folding cot—out of his reach, of course, but he could just barely tap her if he needed anything—because he'd mentioned his sleeping issues. Sometimes he didn't even aggravate his hand, he just woke up in pain. _You know, she uses grape-scented shampoo._

_How in bloody Hell did you—_

_She told me. It's because she's purple._ Another sigh, and he rolled his eyes downward. She had a sense of humor, he could give her that. As the pain in his scar faded, he decided that he'd get the last word in before he could no longer hear the voice. _It's... getting worse. And more frequent._ He muttered mentally, then laid down when he didn't receive a response. He needed some sleep... the collar was no longer irritating, not after the months he'd spent here, but sleeping was horrible. So horrible he could never decide whether it was better he was jolted awake by his scar.

He normally couldn't remember his dreams before, but now they plagued his mind unless burying it in consuming tasks. It was mostly the eyes. They started out yellow in every dream he had... rather like his. But then there was always a clank of metal and while he could see what was happening the more riveting movement was the long line of raccoons running, running far away. The eyes would turn red, and he'd start to run... Then it would all turn red and he wouldn't recognize his own mind anymore. Hatred crept through him, seeped into and out of his every pore, and he kept running. He ran until he felt his metal body tire, and then he ran for even longer. The running normally made him jerk his true body, and would jolt him back with intense pain. But on the occasion it didn't, and he would run for an eternity, slaughtering... blood seeping into his numb talons, acting as oil for the twisted machinery his mind now called home. He kept running, kept killing, and eventually there were no more raccoons to slaughter. He'd wait, then, because he knew there was one left. He'd done it on purpose. He wanted to show that those raccoons were nothing without their book, without their ancestors. But it didn't work. Eventually, when Shomti's body ached with the longing to kill once more, a raccoon would again appear.

Then he woke, every single time. It didn't phase him much the first time, but as the same dream repeated itself without variance, he felt himself begin to crack. Nobody could stand being Clockwerk for hundreds of years, let alone again and again. He'd worked out that was what happened in his dreams; he was picking up on the hatred and the memories of the Clockwerk Heart. He used to sleep with it by him, even in his pocket, but as the dreams began he moved it. First to under his pillow, then to on the floor beside him, on the table, and lastly in another room altogether in an attempt to ward away the nightmares. It made no difference, though, and he was tortured every night whether by his scar or by his dreams. _Clockwerk... You did this to me. And I'll get you back. You'll face torment at my hands you could never imagine in that twisted metal brain of yours, worse than this, and I'll make sure it doesn't end in my lifetime._ Shomti sat up then, and let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. If he couldn't sleep, he couldn't sleep.

He wasn't really complaining anyway; it was better this way, for his sanity. What precious little of it was left, anyway... So, he reached up onto the table and grabbed the remote control—Neyla didn't mind him watching television if he kept it quiet—and turned on the good old idiot box. The volume was so low even his sharp ears had a tough time of locating and tracking the voices, but it wouldn't wake up Neyla and that was the point. She didn't want too much TV anyway, so she didn't have cable or satellite. That meant it was essentially a potluck, because Shomti never knew what channels he'd be able to get or what would be on them. Tonight, the best show was one of those late-night shopping infomercials. He actually rather liked them, even if they were ridiculous. That was really why he liked them.

"Look at that, how much easier could it get? No maintenance required, just open it up and rinse it under running water and it's clean! No hassle at all, isn't that right Jenna?" The female assistant that the male always had, even if all she did was smile, nod, and show off the product. The man himself appeared too well-groomed, as well, to actually know what he was talking about. Simple was often weak, and Shomti knew this. The simple mechanism to open up this slicing and dicing... object... was a curved piece of plastic on a pivot. Open it up and run some water over it, then when it breaks you can't send it back in. Limited warranty; Shomti knew what that meant. They knew what would break first and they didn't cover that bit.

"Hmph. Even idiots like you two can manage to work that machine." Shomti muttered under his breath, muting the television and turning his eyes towards Neyla instead, using the light thrown off by the screen to get a good look at her. She didn't wear much when she slept, and since it was fairly warm in this mystery country she used only a sheet, no blankets. Oftentimes, as now, that sheet would get thrown off her in the night—Shomti suspected she had nightmares too, but could never wring that out of her—and he'd be able to look at her form, covered only by the slightest of garments. Silky-looking boxer shorts and a similarly smooth upper T-shirt that was much too small to be a respectable ANYTHING but pajama top. He knew from the way it slipped down over one of her shoulders most of the time that beneath it was nothing but fur. He'd never seen that bit, of course, and didn't expect to, but she did look... well, beautiful. Not "hot" as he would describe it, because that was a mostly superficial description. But curvaceous, certainly, and not overly toned like some women who work out to stay thin. Deceptively smooth and silky fur seamlessly covered a form that he knew rippled with power whenever she moved, much like any big cat. She didn't look it, but she was strong. No, not as strong as Shomti or Murray, but Carmelita stood no chance, and he was willing to bet even Sly wasn't capable of what she was. Yes, she did look good...

"You know, Shomti, I've been awake for a while now. I know you're just looking at me." She said sleepily, flicking her tail dismissively at him. He chuckled; once in a while, he'd lose track of time while admiring her, and realize he'd been staring with a stupid grin on his face for over an hour. This, judging from the light of the sun creeping in, was what had happened. By now, though, he had a standard response to any complaint from the tigress.

"And yet you haven't moved to cover yourself up." She smiled, rolling over so she was facing him. "Want me to turn it off? I don't need it to see anymore."

"You never needed it to see. You just wanted me to think you were watching it. What's that thing? Turn the volume up, Shomti." He unmuted it, the tiny sound beginning again. "I both said and meant up, not on. I'm no fox."

"Well, in one sense of the word..." He joked, sticking his tongue playfully out at her. She responded in kind and walked over to him, snatching the remote from his hands and turning up the volume herself.

"Oh. It's one of THOSE. What do you think?" Shomti shrugged, raising an eyebrow at the screen.

"Do you honestly expect to get any use out of that? I mean, don't listen to the commercial, just think for a second of what you'd actually DO with it." He paused to let that sink in. "I don't think you need one, really." Neyla sighed.

"You take all the fun out of shopping, Shomti. I'm going to have to take you to the mall sometime just so I can see what you say there." He chuckled, standing up with a clinking sound from his chain.

"You know you do the same thing, Neyla." She laughed under her breath, then turned the television off. "What's for breakfast?" Of course, the words meant "where are we going to eat" since they rarely ate in.

"I was thinking IHOP. Sound good?" She asked over her shoulder as she glided gracefully to her bedroom to put on more suitable clothes. The two weren't so close that they dressed and undressed in the same room, though perhaps if Neyla were less subtle they might. Shomti watched her swaying tail as she left, then sat back and messed with the Rubik's Cube that Neyla had bought for him. After he'd taught her how to solve it, she'd developed her own preferences as far as looseness—in her case, tightness—and he'd insisted on her getting him a good Cube that he could lube, first with vegetable oil for about a week—to corrode the inner surfaces and wear away the plastic, making it a great deal looser—and then with high-grade silicone lube, to make the Cube extremely slick and easy to turn. It was actually loose enough now that Shomti could take hold of a corner and rotate it within its socket.

Neyla's solving style, however, used the wrist more than Shomti's and she preferred her Cube to be a bit tighter. It made it easier to make the right turns, considering the inaccuracy of her turning method. She was quick, within the limits of that wrist-tricking style, but Shomti was quicker. He occasionally breached a minute, while Neyla normally managed it in two. Both, of course, used very similar algorithms—Neyla's style warranted an occasional tweak of one or two moves—and identical solving orders. Green face, middle layer, blue cross, corners. A beginner's solution, really, but they both had it streamlined to the extreme with shortened algorithms and all.

"IHOP sounds great. They don't have grape waffles, do they?" Neyla laughed, not a particularly "charming" sound as such, but it grew on you. "That's too bad. Well, I'm sure there's something that I'll like. I can't rightly remember." He paused, then looked back at her. "It's Wednesday. Am I to understand my interrogation will be postponed until after breakfast?"

"Contessa will hear about the terrible traffic." Shomti beamed.

"Excellent." Every Wednesday, Neyla was supposed to bring her vulpine prisoner to the Contessa's special psychiatric ward, where he would be interrogated and fed spice while she tried to hypnotize him. "The effect of her spice is fun, but it has its place. Namely, battle." Both Neyla and Shomti understood this; both had eaten considerable quantities in not so great a time frame, and they had the same reaction to its unique chemical composition.

The urge to fight.

"Yes, well, Contessa uses what she can. If there were an easier way to hypnotize you, one without the side effects of that spice..."

"The spice doesn't help to hypnotize me, though. She's been frustrated enough by now to know that." Neyla gave Shomti an exasperated sigh as she emerged wearing fairly normal clothes; that is, compared to what she normally wore. Her shirt was torn, something fashionable in America—Shomti still didn't know whether he was there or on another continent completely—but not nearly so everywhere else. Her jeans were ripped up in a traditional rocker manner, exposing her sleek purple fur beneath the denim. But, for some unfathomable reason, she donned a fedora with a single black-dyed turkey quill sticking up from the left side. Shomti gave her a curious look. "...Neyla, do I WANT to know?"

"Not really, no." He sighed, and shook his head. "What? I can dress as an eccentric every now and then. Just look at YOU. You're the one that ought to be wearing a piecemeal outfit."

"I'd have no problem if you didn't always look eccentric. As it is, though..." She scoffed and tossed a pillow at him. He batted it aside, exhibiting the reflexes that he kept sharp through mental exercises, and grinned. "You'll have to do better than that. Why, at this rate, you would never be able to stop me if I tried to escape!" Neyla laughed once more. It really DID grow on you; Shomti found himself smiling at the sound.

"That might worry me, except you don't seem to be that intent on escaping." Shomti waggled a finger, a response she expected by now. Rather than let him repeat himself, she said it for him. "I know, Sly's going to come and break you out. Sure he is. You keep saying that; tell me, where IS Sly? Not here, certainly."

"He's probably getting Carmelita. It does take a while to set everything up, you know; once he's rescued her, he'll show up. He's that kind of person." Neyla smiled and nodded, as if to say "Sure he will, Shomti...use that as your excuse..." Shomti rolled his eyes. "Anyway, speaking of outfits as we were, what do you say we finally get me another change of clothes?"

"After the Contessa has her way with you, then maybe we can drop by the mall. If you're still up to it, that is. I know how you get after that." Shomti grimaced and nodded. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah... tomorrow." He muttered, tugging on his chain. Neyla punched in the combination, quickly hooking him to her leash once the clasp on his chain was undone. Shomti proceeded to use his newfound freedom to stroll over to Neyla's room—tugging the cat along behind him—and pocket the Heart, a dull burning sensation beginning to grow in his hand as he got closer. He gave no sign of that, however, and even though it was excruciating by the time he had the heart of steel in his side pouch—the only raiment from his past life that he was allowed still to carry, even his binocucom gone—he kept his face cool. Neyla needn't know the agony he was in. It would show weakness, and however close they were, weakness would not be a good thing. It would, in all foreseeable circumstances, set them against one another as they had been the first week. The greatest sacrifice he was willing to make was moving the Heart to her bedroom when he slept, to avoid the nightmares... it didn't work, he knew, but the theory was there and he did it because he was worried about the effect of moving it closer once more. Moving it away might not make it better, but moving it back could make it worse...

Neyla jolted him back awake with a short, low-intensity burst of electricity. Just enough to force his muscles to tighten up, then he lifted his head. "Earth to Shomti. You need to really stop zoning out. It's really not becoming of you... now, what happened to the sharp-as-a-tack fox that I kidnapped? Surely you haven't gotten lackadaisical...?"

"No, just thinking." A pause as neither moved. "When can I get my knives back?" Neyla laughed and pointed at a Plexiglass case set on a cupboard.

"The restorer wondered what you did to them. The damage couldn't be repaired, but I'm sure you'll be glad to know that the handles are no longer scuffed, and there are no more bloodstains." Her vulpine companion groaned. There went all the evidence of his many fights, all the scuffs and scratches he'd earned in combat, all the stains from his victims' lives... their collective identity as spots of red and lines of silver was destroyed, and they became just 247 dead bodies. Losing his knives, after what they went through with him, felt worse than losing his first body. He took a shuddering breath, closed his eyes, and when he opened them he walked out of his captor's bedroom, not casting a second glance at the badly chipped and—in the case of the right-hand knife—cracked blades. "Something wrong, Shom...?" He paused, then turned and looked at her.

"It's nothing. I'll just have to get another 247 clocked on my next blades." He said it casually, but beneath the words lurked a venom. Who was to say what value in a knife was...? The stuffy man who had repolished Shomti's blades and removed all traces of any fight but that which had left him maimed? Or the one who had carried them through many a fight, had GOTTEN all those scuffs and stains, and knew exactly how to sharpen the right hand knife with the edge's slight arc to one side. The knives weren't exactly top-quality, but goddammit they'd saved his life many a time, often by ending the lives of others. "Let's go. I'm hungry." He muttered, walking towards the door.

"Going to take out your anger on the Contessa instead of me?" Shomti shrugged, looking up where the sky would have been if they were outside. His eyes met a small black spider lurking in a corner, and he knew it was afraid by the way it moved. It must have been looking at him, because it let go of its web and dropped to the floor to scurry away.

Neyla crushed it. "My only anger is directed at Fate, for what it's done to me. Of all the possessions I came here with, I have but two left. The Heart, and something to carry it in." He turned towards the tigress. "Let's go. I'm hungry." He said, more insistently this time. She nodded and unlocked the door, letting him out first and closing the door behind them. Nobody would try to break in—or rather, nobody would be able to—so she left it unlocked. She'd find later that, of all days to do so, this was the worst.

The two of them arrived at IHOP after an uneventful drive, had an uneventful breakfast—sharing jokes, thinly veiled flirts, and open compliments, as was routine—and had a somewhat more eventful drive to the psychiatric clinic that the Contessa occupied.

It was only more entertaining because of the accident on the side of the road. It was apparent that the victim was a drunk driver, and he swerved where he thought there was a tunnel on the side of the mountain. He was disappointed, perhaps, to learn that swerving into tunnels at speeds higher than eighty miles an hour does NOT guarantee the presence of a tunnel where you are expecting one. The engine ended up where his legs used to be, by the looks of things, and his legs were in the trunk while the rest of him was still in the driver's seat. Seeing as how he definitely deserved it, Neyla and Shomti both had a good laugh at the zebra's expense.

Then, of course, they reached the Contessa's clinic, and Shomti groaned as he got out of the car on his own side, forcing Neyla to follow—they were, after all, attached via a leash—and she seemed to resent this action. Possibly because her car was a stick shift—like Murray's van, though a little less... conspicuous—and she had to climb over the divide in the front portion of the car. This was a hassle she'd much rather have avoided, but she didn't zap Shomti for it, so he didn't care. Under other circumstances, he might have. Right now, though, she had just driven him to another two or three hours of mental exertion and many, many more hours of irritation after that.

Sly's day, on the other hand, was slightly more eventful. He had to sneak into the IHOP where Shomti was eating breakfast, try to get the fox to notice him, AND ignore the fact that he seemed to be getting along fairly well with Neyla. Despite the collar and leash attached, the two seemed eerily friendly with each other... He shook off the feeling and turned the knob, opening Neyla's front door as he knew he'd be able to. The pressure pad on the mat was deactivated—it turned on when the door was locked—and the laser grid was down too. The only security he needed to watch out for was Neyla's obsessive-compulsive organization. If one thing moved, she'd notice, and he'd be found out. At least the floor wouldn't need combing; carpet was a thief's ally in most cases, but with someone like Neyla it could turn bad real fast. Good thing she was so picky about her flooring. If Bentley were here, he'd probably get an earful about how it was an exotic wood species and its remarkable properties, physical and spiritual... but he was here alone. Bentley and Murray didn't know about this: it was his little secret, his pet project. Of course they'd have helped if they did know, but Sly needed to have a few words with Shomti before the rest of the gang got involved.

Back to the matter at hand. Sly snooped carefully through the place, noting the two Rubik's Cubes—both solved, but one with an S carved into the center white face—before he cast his eyes on Neyla's door. Partially opened... he was prepared for that. The master thief took a paper clip from his pocket, which he'd intended to use to get in before he realized the door was unlocked. He unfolded it, then bent it into an arch with twisted feet so that he could set it on the hardwood floor and scoot it up against the door... thus marking its exact location so that he could return it there once he left. No problems. He slid the door open, carefully stepping over his impromptu marker and casting his eyes about the room. They met with lots of art of various kinds, as well as seemingly worthless objects. No Clockwerk parts... Sly knew that Neyla was with the Klaww Gang since she'd had Carmelita arrested, so he'd been hoping there was one he could pick up here. As he turned to left, the raccoon noticed a crystal case atop a bookshelf. Peering carefully, Sly's eyes widened as he recognized the knives within. Cracked, chipped, and immaculate. Interesting.

But he had no more time to waste. He carefully left the room, returned the door to its position, recovered his marker, and went to leave. Before he did, he pulled a tiny paper calling card from his pouch and slipped it between the cracks in the Rubik's Cube with an S in it. Then he darted outside, and closed the door behind him. Neyla would see no trace.

Once back at the safehouse, he allowed the thoughts he'd been quelling all day to fill his mind. The others were cracking the Contessa's security, preparing to break out his favorite Latin vixen and pick up the Clockwerk Eyes while they were at it. There remained another day before they could pull it off, but should they try to pick Shomti up while they were here? It certainly seemed efficient... he'd bring it up with Bentley when he got back. And Murray, too. The big lug may not be able to help make the decision, but he deserved to know. As for Sly, he wasn't sure he wanted him back. Things looked too comfortable between him and that traitor. She was a bitch, a cold, heartless bitch. How could he LAUGH with her, SMILE with her, FLIRT with her? After doing all of the above with Carmelita in India, no less! For once, Sly let a snarl creep across his lips.

_I could let the fox rot. He's a traitor too. If it weren't for him and his big mouth, Carmelita would never have been caught. I don't have to tell the others he's here. Don't let anybody know, and he'll be held here to his death. Do I want that...?_ He went over it in his mind, the snarl fading as he furrowed his brow and pulled his knees in close, resting his chin between the two. _For me, yes. For the Gang, no... no, I can't. The Gang is bigger than just me. I tell them, we talk it over._ And yet he was tempted not to. Still, when the intellectual turtle and the not-so-smart hippo arrived, he reluctantly stood and explained his business. Murray hugged him. Bentley gave him a glare and a nod, like it was expected. He must have known all along.

"Well? What should we do?" They both seemed appalled. That was right, they didn't know what Sly did.

"It's obvious, Sly. We have to go in there and get him." Bentley said in his nasally way, swiveling towards him once he sat down, huffing from exertion on his way over here. Apparently, Murray had been a bit quicker than him, though how was beyond the raccoon. They were both slow.

"We don't have to. I saw him today, eating with Neyla in IHOP." He received a look from Bentley that said, Everybody needs to eat, Sly, and a look from Murray that said, I'm kinda hungry, now that you mention it. "They smiled, laughed, even flirted. If not for that collar that kept him tethered to Neyla, I'd say they were fine friends." Bentley, who had obviously found an intellectual companion in the younger fox, was not going to relent that easily.

"What are you saying? How much do you know about Shomti? While listening in on his conversations with Neyla, I discovered he was a brilliant actor. Didn't you see that? He must just be acting!" Murray frowned, caught between the two sides as he munched a cinnamon roll.

"Bentley, if not for Shomti Carmelita wouldn't NEED rescuing right now." Sly said, a bit more venomously than he intended and standing up as he did.

"And if it weren't for you, she wouldn't get it! Murray, do you think we should save Shomti?" The hippo nodded, took a bite, then shook his head.

"I dunno, guys, you're taking this pretty seriously. But doesn't he have the Heart? We'd have to steal from our ole buddy if we didn't rescue him. Just sayin, is all." He returned to his food.

"I never thought I'd say this, Sly, but Murray's logic is sound! There's no ifs, ands, or buts. We're saving Shomti. You don't have to help, but if not then keep that in mind when you want US to help save Carmelita, the woman who wants us all behind bars." He took a deep breath, realizing he'd tightened his fingers around his dart gun and ended up pointing it at Sly, while the latter had raised his cane and actually started to snarl. The turtle released his breath, swiveling away while Sly grudgingly lowered his own weapon.

"Fine. You two get him. I can manage Carmelita myself." Bentley frowned, but said nothing. Murray would have said something, but Sly turned and left the room without another word. He didn't need to talk to them. This would all blow over anyway; things like this always did. He cast one eye at the clock, reflected over what he knew about the set-up for rescuing Carmelita, and mentally made a few changes to his plan. For the most part, though, it was all set up. Even with just one guy, he could pull it off if that one guy was him.

Bentley and Murray muttered amongst themselves, and then they both left to check out Shomti's "prison" for themselves. Bentley would formulate a plan within the day, and if Sly had to guess from the security it'd take just one night to get the set-up ready. Tonight. They moved tomorrow, both of them.

As for Shomti, the rest of his day was bitter and angry. He recalled vaguely admitting nonsensical things to the Contessa, such as the way Sly tied his shoes, the shampoo he used, and the color of Murray's scarf. Useless information and he knew it. He did it to frustrate her, because if she asked for a location of their stash, she would get a lecture on how Bentley kept a stack of computer geek magazines under his bed. If she asked what they looked like, he'd give her a detailed description of the various ways each cast their eyes around rooms they were in, how Sly studied the room itself, how Bentley's gravitated towards technology, and Murray's tended to seek out the nearest piece of food or—failing that—someone he needed to smash.

When he arrived home, he and Neyla had a conversation—not very pleasant, given Shomti's continual twitches and desire to fight—before he lay down on his "bed" in the living room, and she undressed in her room, and lay down herself on the cot she had placed. Shomti knew by now that moving the Heart didn't help with his dreams, so he decided to see what would happen if he kept it near him. Besides the ache in his paw, keeping him somewhat from falling asleep, he didn't expect any difference. And when he finally fell asleep, he turned out to be right, despite his not knowing it during his endless running. So much running... and then the slaughter...

Yeah, I went there. Alright, so please remember to review if you like it, or PM me and let me know you liked it, or something. I'm starting to get review-envy for someone whose story is shorter than mine and has, like, five BILLION reviews. Okay, until then!


	9. Gone

It's a short chapter. It's actually my shortest yet. But that was a function of what I meant it to be. It's not supposed to be like my others, it's supposed to be more abstracted from the reality in the story. I hope you see that. And by the way, as a disclaimer, I STILL don't own the Sly Cooper franchise or any of their characters, but I do own Shomti. And the story itself is mine.

Gone

There were one or two problems with the heist, the rescue, whatever you want to call it. But Murray and Bentley got Shomti out, and he luckily had the Heart in his pocket when they did. Neyla put up a pretty good fight for Murray, and they hadn't anticipated the taser effect on Shomti's collar when they all tried to get away, but Neyla was eventually knocked out—Shomti made sure she wasn't hurt before they left—and Murray was able to break away the iron collar. He'd gotten stronger, Shomti noticed.

It was so sudden that he had a hard time accepting it until he found himself in the van and noticed something. "Sly's not here." He stated, confused. They explained the situation to him and he turned, twisting his whole body into the punch he directed at the van's wall. It left a dent several inches deep, and he didn't care. His hand felt fine. "Dammit. That asshole. He just doesn't get it does he?" Then, as he realized the look on Murray's face, he took a second look at what he'd done to his van. "Sorry. I'll fix that later." He cradled his head in his hands and dropped to his knees. What was he becoming? And why had Sly...?

They arrived at the safehouse, and Shomti looked around. They'd gotten an extra room, but he was informed it wasn't for him because they hadn't anticipated rescuing him. They were here to rescue Carm, and it was for her if she needed it. So if he wanted to sleep, it'd be on the couch. The couch had room enough for three normally, and due to Bentley's small size and Murray's larger girth, it balanced out enough for Shomti to have enough room to sit. He didn't, though. He sat down on the floor, anticipating Sly taking the seat on the couch before he remembered that Sly wasn't there. He and the Gang sans Sly caught up on a few things, but there was nothing much to tell. He kept his nightmares secret, but showed them the scar on his hand. He kept the voice in his head from them, but he told them of how Rajan had used lightning in their fight.

In return, the two others related what had happened since Shomti'd been arrested. It was dull stuff, mostly how they'd located Carmelita and such. Halfway through their narrative Shomti stood angrily with a howling shout. His hand had been throbbing painfully all day, leaving him irritable, and now he had to put up with this while Sly was placing a higher priority on Carmelita than on him. No, not only that, but he had outright refused to help Shomti! He could have gotten her and then saved him, Shomti didn't mind. But he hadn't! "God-bloody-dammit! Why can't he just look at it my way?! Does he think I LIKE things this way!?" And he kicked the coffee table nearby, the leg his foot connected with snapping under it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn't be that strong. But he didn't care. And as he stormed his way over to the door, he hazily knew that Bentley and Murray were shocked and asking where he was going. "Damn if he's going to do this to me... I'm going to go find Sly." He snarled, his head twisting to look over his shoulder. If the two in the Cooper Gang had paid closer attention, they'd have realized something new in his eyes. Namely, they were a new color. Crimson red, like the blood of Clockwerk's victims.

At the same time, Neyla twitched in her forcefully-induced sleep. She couldn't escape her dreams, even when knocked out rather than truly asleep. But that wasn't, of course, for lack of trying. She'd tried everything to get rid of her nightmares, but they kept coming back. Her whole body went cold while her mind flooded hot with rage and hatred, hatred that was the only thing keeping her alive. And if she looked down, she knew she'd see a gleaming metallic body where she should have had warm violet fur. Immortality... was this the price for it? And could she pay it without also giving up her sanity? Neyla wasn't sure she wanted to...

When her eyes flickered open, everything came back. Her phones had been disconnected the night before, and her cell phone smashed. There was no way for her to get help. The "houses" on either side of her own were for show. She had made sure there were no neighbors... nobody in the area could have heard her shouts. Shomti was gone. And now, now that he was, she realized that to keep him against his will was counterproductive. Only now did she see her mistake. In frustration, she picked up his Rubik's Cube and threw it against the wall. When it shattered into its separate pieces—no great feat, it was so loose that dropping it occasionally dislodged a corner or edge—and realized there was something there that should not have been. A... calling card. From Sly? Yes. There were no words. It was probably just to alert Shomti that he was going to be rescued. Judging, though, by the fact that he had not disposed of it, the fox never saw it. And if Neyla was not mistaken, Sly himself had not shown up at all for the rescue. Busy elsewhere? Or frustrated with the vulpine? She wished she didn't care. About the fox, about his friends, everything like that. _W-why...? Why is he gone?_ She sighed, sinking down and clasping her arms around her legs and crying into her knees. It wasn't fair. She loved him... she loved him! This wasn't fair! They couldn't do this to her! They... they weren't allowed to! After all the power she'd accrued, all the influence she'd gained, money earned, and they simply took him?! He was gone! Gone! "Gone..." A hoarse whisper escaped her lips as she closed her eyes and shook with... something. Something rotted inside her stomach. Misery, perhaps. It was akin to that which she'd felt when she realized that the syndicate she'd belonged to was simply using her, but so much stronger. _Gone... he's gone..._ Then, a tempered thought entered her mind, a hardened idea. _I will get him back. When I do I'll tell him... tell him how I feel. But first I have to get him back. He can't be gone. He can't be._ And she started to brood, resentment growing inside her towards the Cooper Gang to which Shomti belonged—or at least, had belonged, she didn't know now what had happened—and especially towards that raccoon, Sly. No matter who had actually executed the rescue, he made it possible, and she hated him for it. A burning hatred, an almost senseless rage. Only it wasn't senseless, not like the rage that boiled her blood in her nightmares. To the contrary the clarity of her thought was the greatest it had been in a long while. So she resolved to get Shomti back and keep him back this time, steal his heart and make him want to stay, and maybe she'd find happiness. Who knew? Everyone who was in love seemed happy, after all.

Sly was having troubles of his own, despite being madly in love with the vixen just a few feet away. He'd have been in and out of the Contessa's psychiatric ward about an hour ago, but bad luck had seen him run into a guard that happened to be near an alarm. In short order, he was tied up, and because of the black widow's cruel sense of humor, kept in the same room as Carmelita. But the spider hadn't yet succeeded in breaking her spirit, as was clearly evident by her struggles and muffled shouts of various threats directed at the Contessa. "Be quiet, worm. I can hardly hear myself think with all of this racket and shouting." Sly would have joined in, but he'd been gagged on top of being bound. It was several minutes, or perhaps an hour or two—time was not a particularly great concern of Sly's, considering the circumstances—before something happened. To help explain that statement, it wasn't just SOMETHING that happened. Shomti happened.

"Oh, joy. More of you. If you so much as lay one FINGER on me I'm going to snap it off and shove it up your—" The Contessa motioned with a hand to stop him right there, and to stop her thugs from ignoring his warnings. "There. Alright, look, I haven't got my blades, but if you think that's going to stop me then you have my permission to see exactly how much training I've had. My quarrel is with your two prisoners, Contessa, and those Eyes you're using on your machine. They're all coming with me." A small dart thunked into his leg, obviously a sedative. In retaliation, he pulled it out, crushing it beneath his foot as he crudely tugged the gag out of Sly's mouth. "You IMBECILE! You unthinking, inconsiderate IDIOT! I should just leave you here, shouldn't I? You did it to me! You could have come in any time—no, shut up, you know I'm right—" He quashed Sly's complaint before it was formed. "—But you didn't! I ought to leave you, and leave Carmelita, and grab the eyes and get my own ass out of here and leave you to the courtesy of your FRIENDS! Now look here pretty-boy, I've been through two months of HELL with Neyla, I've gotten TWELVE hours of sleep in the past SIX days, and even in those twelve hours I was..." He trailed off with a shudder. "You don't want to know. Now, just because I happen to LIKE Neyla and happen to KNOW EXACTLY WHAT THE HELL SHE WENT THROUGH, and appreciate her for it, you think I'm siding with her, is that it? You think that I'm going to chat it up with her and be friends and THAT'S why she had me on an ELECTRIC COLLAR which she used during her INTERROGATIONS of me, that's what you're thinking, Sly?! You think you know Hell because your family got slaughtered by Clockwerk, huh? Is that what you think? Let me tell you what HELL is, Sly. Hell is running. Hell is blood. Hell is fire in your veins and ice on every inch of your body, and the two never once touch and calm the other. Hell is dealing death without wanting to, Hell is watching innocents die by YOUR hand which you only WISH you could stop, Hell is Clockwerk! Then you wake up from Hell, and you carry a part of it with you, throbbing in your mind and your hand to remind you of it. If you can't sleep, it's because you were woken up by the pain! THAT is Hell! And godDAMN if you're going to condemn me for living it because I tried to help you! That's right, I led Rajan away from you, I fought him and I killed him, I got this scar and this cold Heart because I was defending you! And you're condemning me because I did that?! You know what Sly? I should leave you here! I should leave you to ROT!" A deep breath, and Shomti spat on the raccoon's face before snarling and undoing the rest of his buckles. "But I'm better than you, and I don't leave my friends. Now go free Carmelita while I get those Eyes. Contessa, don't even think about leaving. Especially not with those in your hand." This last was a shout at the widow—in more ways than one—scuttling away with the Clockwerk eyes in one claw. "Goddammit, why is it always RUNNING?!" He cursed, and sprinted after her, and was gone.

Yep. It's not supposed to be long. I hope you got that from it. I'm actually approaching the end now. There may be a sequel, by the way, but that may also just exist in my mind. Also, I had a hard time not using lots more profanity than I did in this chapter. Shomti's different now, and that should DEFINITELY be evident. When I first wrote it, I used profanity so often and so vibrantly I decided that if I published it it'd have to lose the T rating and get an M one. So I took out every instance of the big F and a good deal of other words. Be glad I did, because he's almost as vivid with his language as I can be when I'M as ticked off as he is.


	10. Aurora Devia

Sorry about the wait. And actually, my mate--we met on this very website--has requested that to make Genius more readable, I introduce a male alternate love interest for Shomti. Being bisexual leaning gay myself, I see no reason why I shouldn't oblige her and include the delicious yaoi. So... without further ado, here's the next chapter of Genius. A ten-page chapter for the tenth chapter. Yay!

Aurora Devia

Shomti sat in his room, flipping the Clockwerk Eyes over and over in his hand, where if he squinted he could still see the Contessa's bluish blood staining his fur. His other hand hung limply at his side, throbbing with a dull ache he was used to by now. The others were playing video games, but he blocked out the noise with his own thoughts. Carmelita needed someone to guard her, and after a brief protest from Sly Shomti had explained in great and thorough detail how stupid it would be to put anybody else in charge of watching her. Grudgingly, the Gang let him keep an eye on the sleeping vixen, and by the sound of things they had forgotten how angry they were. Also in the room—because nobody else could stand being near them—were the Clockwerk Tailfeathers and Wings. The Heart was, as always, in his leg-pouch. The Gang had put in an order to Thiefnet to buy Shomti some new clothes, and for some reason he went with steely gray. It just felt right, he supposed, and as he donned the outfit he noted the way his new gloves covered his scar. So he took them off. His scar was a part of who he was; why hide it from the world? Clockwerk was a part of him, now, and it was only fair that he did it justice.

But he would never become Clockwerk. He'd realized that was what was happening to him, and he'd steeled himself—what an appropriate expression—against the bird's influence. He tempered his anger by cooling his emotions, removing them all but completely. Somewhere in the dark recesses of his heart—that part which had avoided corruption, at least—he knew that he cared deeply for Neyla. He was unsure of whether this was good or bad, but he knew it was there. He could only hope, meanwhile, that she felt the same. Until they ran into each other next, he had to function rationally. Preferably if they DID run into each other he'd still be behaving logically, but then it wouldn't be as important. An occasional lapse would, theoretically speaking, not be fatal. This was because he hoped to meet Neyla on better terms than as captor and captive.

Without emotions, he was able to objectively view society and—in particular—the Cooper Gang and see how incredibly great a distance was put between them and him by his cold outlook. In order to avoid being angry at the wrong times, Shomti would never be angry.

As he was pondering whether a lack of all emotions was the answer—and approaching the conclusion that it was—Carmelita stirred beneath her sheets. The male fox raised his head, keeping a yellow eye on the other fox as she blinked open her green ones.

"You're with the Cooper Gang. I'm Shomti, and supposed to watch you." He said flatly, forcing himself not to act on any of his emotions as Carmelita glared, then her eyes softened. No doubt, she was remembering her affection for the fox.

"You sound... different, Shomti."

"I am different." He'd have said more, but really it wasn't necessary. And he didn't particularly like to say things that weren't necessary. As he saw a question beginning to form in her throat, though, he sighed and proceeded to elaborate. "The Clockwerk Heart, you saw how Rajan got lucky and nicked me with it, I assume?" She remained silent and totally still. "Well, I... I've gotten a little taste of torture. I don't imagine that what Contessa did to you can compare."

"I was locked up for days on end, Shomti, and interrogated as if I was a criminal." Shomti's face remained flat, but the stare he gave her and the way his eyes dully reflected light—lifeless as a doll's eyes—told her all she needed to know. "Y-you're right. It can't. I'm sorry." Shomti hissed, a bloody tinge creeping into his eyes before he closed them and breathed out.

"Don't apologize for something that you could never understand. What you did cannot be washed away with a softly whispered sorry and a hug." He knew she wanted one. "Or a kiss." Again, she wanted one, and this time she blushed and averted her eyes. "Or anything else you can do. There is nothing that you can do to help." A quiet pause, then—since he couldn't tell the others in the Gang—he continued. "It still hurts. Every day, every night. I did it for Sly, and he hated me in return. Some friend." A roll of his eyes, then he stood. There was nothing more to say, except...

"Shomti, I—" Before she could finish he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. "—love you..."

"Sly. Inspector's up."

He didn't particularly keep up with what happened after that, but she didn't stick around, and so he got to keep her room as they chilled a little while before moving on to the next Clockwerk Part. In the meantime, his emotions disappeared more and more, to the point that while they were walking around and buying and eating things, someone bumped Shomti and took his wallet. He noticed this, but his face showed not one speck of change as he turned around, caught the hyena's shoulder, and tugged him back with two simple words: "My wallet," before he plucked the proffered leather billfold out of the pickpocket's fingers, and let him go. The whole incident was dealt with as though Shomti were simply fixing the gloves Sly insisted he wear in public. In fact, Sly almost didn't notice it at all, the only thing cluing him into it being the slight thwap of Shomti's hand on the pickpocket's shoulder. When the raccoon gave him an inquisitive glance, he held up the wallet and then stuck it in his pocket.

"He took it. I took it back." Few words, since the occasion wasn't really deserving of more. He found out from Bentley—only after they'd left—that the mystery country was the Czech Republic, and he'd been held very near the capital city of Prague before he killed the Contessa and they left. Now, however, they were driving across the country, and they took another plane—there were fewer mishaps with the van, since they had time to arrange proper transport for it this time—before landing in the Northern US and driving north. Canada was the location of the next set of Clockwerk parts. By Shomti's request, they'd be going after Jean Bison's Clockwerk Talons rather than the Stomach and Lungs that he used in his trains. For the most part, he needed a weapon and the Talons would—after some modification by Bentley—fit the bill. He didn't want another knife, or pair of knives, and even though the Talons were being used as an axe by Jean Bison, he had something else in mind. To kill without a conscience, the way he did, was to become Death, and so he wanted a weapon worthy of Death himself. He wanted a scythe made with Clockwerk's Talons. Naturally, for purpose of utility, the haft would have to be shorter than a normal scythe, and shaped differently for fighting rather than harvesting grain. But he could make it work, if Bentley could create it for him. He wouldn't take the idea too far and wear a cloak and robe or such, but a scythe would do nicely.

Until then, his body would be his weapon.

In the meantime he had to actually obtain the Talons, something that he wasn't particularly worried about. A fight with Jean Bison would be absolutely nothing to him, no matter what the Canadian was using as a weapon. Shomti would tire him with his agility, then break him with his fists. Or, as they did tend to be stronger, his legs. Yes, Jean Bison wouldn't have half the chance of a snowball caught in Hell.

Shomti looked out the window tiredly, wiping the mist off the glass face. When you didn't react to things, you got bored. He was learning to deal with this, but while the trip to India had been boring, he at least SPOKE during it. Now he felt a rift growing between himself and the rest of the Gang. He rarely talked to them, and when he did it was generally with Bentley. His camaraderie with Sly was all but gone due to the anger that Sly still harbored. Shomti could hear it in his voice, politely restrained and such, but disapproving of the fox's presence in the gang. Murray MEANT well, yes. He had to give the hippo credit for that, but... talking to him just wasn't satisfying. He needed to have more intellectual stimulation, he needed someone that understood him. And "The Murray" tended to be emotionally dynamic as part of his charm, something that Shomti no longer appreciated. Bentley, though, was still as intellectual as ever. The undercurrents of their friendship still existed even though Shomti had been alienated by Sly and did his best to politely coexist with the lump called Murray. While Bentley was more technical in his expertise and Shomti more theoretical, they still got along fine, and Bentley taught him the basics of electronics once or twice. He didn't particularly care for it, but he understood it well enough. They talked, did things, and if Shomti could say he had a friend it would be Bentley. But, as he might say, he no longer had the luxury of friendship, and even if he were to consider Bentley a friend it was a weak bond compared to what he used to have with every individual member of the Gang. He ate alone, he sat off to the side and thought while others talked and laughed together, and he started to write to take up his time. Poetry, mostly, about pain. The different incarnations of it and the sufferings he went through, psychological and physical. Nobody really cared to read it; he showed one piece to Bentley, once, and of course the turtle appreciated it for the style. The same piece elicited a cold reaction from Sly, who appeared to regard it as attention-mongering, and a wide-eyed stare from Murray. That one was about the general agony he went through getting separated from the Gang, and one particularly vivid metaphor he used was that he was being sliced slowly in half along the vertical axis with a razor blade. It was worded differently, of course, and the way he wrote it impacted the ordinary person very, very strongly. That's what got Murray to stop reading.

"Hey. Shomti." It was Sly, wresting the fox from his cold reverie. "Nearly there." Yes, it was a very boring trip. No jokes directed at him, none that he made... very, very little true conversation, and he never got back that copy of the Thievius Raccoonus. Hm.

"Alright." There wasn't much more to say. Sly looked at him expectantly, but the Gang's assassin had returned to staring out the cold window. Momentarily, he pressed his left hand against the glass before him. The cold feeling in it made him surprised to note that it still fogged the window just as much as his right did. Perhaps more, even, due to the blood that rushed to the area to try and correct the source of the pain. There was no way to, though... he just had to live with it. It was forever and just a few seconds before he noted that they pulled up to... something. A cave, probably. They normally stayed in caves. Sly went out on a job, Bentley got on the computer, and Murray started eating. Started eating? _No, he simply continued,_ Shomti corrected himself. _If I ever wondered what the Gang would be like without me... this must be it. I'm not even here, am I? Do I still cast a shadow? I know I did while I was with Neyla... the pain wasn't so great then. Was it her, or was it the time...? For all my genius, there are so many unanswered questions... do I love her, did I love her, is she right for me, did she love me, does she hate me, is she looking for me, does she know about my pain... so many questions, and I have none of the answers though it is necessary that they exist. There is just no possible way for them not to... is there? _Slowly, the genius crept with wordless shouts toward the sheer cliff of insanity. Every night felt a little longer, he imagined gray hairs in his muzzle, wrinkles on his face... he felt like he was growing older, and while the days were the same length of time—he knew this, it felt exactly the same—the time simply didn't matter to him anymore. Every second was pain, every pain was an eternity in itself, and that was his whole life as he lived it, eternity after eternity of agonizing fire.

Some five hundred and four agonies later, he was in the safe house with the gang. Well, most of the gang. Sly was out doing some recon on the place, finding out where the Talons were and such. Bentley needed information before he could pull the heist. The vulpine wouldn't be ideal for the task, since it was best that they remain unnoticed. Big red splotches on the Canadian Arctic were difficult to miss. Since he tended to leave very, very noticeable evidence, they decided he wasn't going to accompany Sly on the mission. Or rather, that was their excuse not to let him go. There was also the suspicion Shomti held that Sly would rip out his throat if they were ever alone together.

There was, interestingly, another Death in the very close vicinity. He was similar to Shomti in many ways—though they never met—and he was doing much the same thing. That is to say, he was going to get Jean Bison killed. He actually couldn't care less about the Clockwerk Parts, but Jean Bison himself was destroying something the black wolf did care a great deal about. Trees. And lots of them, too; these in particular were white pine, and while mostly useless he didn't really care what the trees were, more concerned with what was happening to them. Cut down and left, or else burned? How wasteful. Hmph.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._ The Italian olivewood rod in his hand was smooth, and every clack against the rough, cool pavement before his footpaws strengthened his illusion. Meanwhile, he walked, bowed over, his large, full pack on his back—it held his sleeping supplies and other canes—and tapped the ground in front of him. Sometimes it was difficult for him to See certain things. Ice, for example. Ice was annoying to him. Even with the aid of the olivewood cane, ice often eluded him. Like that thing he just stepped on. It felt somewhat pointy. He kept walking, icy pavement underneath his paws and warm, dense cane in his right hand. He'd made it himself, chipping away with a knife until he liked what he Saw. Of course, it was difficult to make, since it was the properties of this wood and the way it was shaped that allowed him to See as well as he now could. Though, he'd been able to See rudimentarily since that day...

Running around the museum turned mausoleum of ancient exhibits, dusty and dark, he was a young boy who wanted to know things—everything—above all else. He wished to understand, and to see, and touch and feel and taste and smell and KNOW, above all else he wished to know. So of course, a locked door was no problem for him; he charged it a couple of times, and with an impact that jarred his entire body he crashed onto the cool stone floor, the door banging with a woody clunk against the marble wall. The knob left a rough-edged ding in the rock, but he was uninterested in _that_ of course because he had something new to comprehend. Eyes and fingers trailed up the icy gold frame, smooth and sinuously patterned beneath his touch, before he looked at what it contained. Instantly he was captivated, and instantly he was captured. It seemed paradoxical, but before him was a black mirror. He reached out and touched it, the smooth surface covered with tiny irregularities. Pores. It was wood, polished to the point of reflection. And in it was him. He stared at his likeness, absorbing all that was presented to him. A black wolf in black clothes stared back at him through the black mirror, and as he latched onto the eyes that should have belonged to none other than he himself... something changed. Where was the mirror? Where was the room? Where was ANYTHING?

"H-hello...?" Scrabbling around in the dark, he Saw wisps of smoke or what seemed like it, emanating from every surface and moving, not just up but also down and sideways and forward and back. Any direction, the only rule being that it started away from whatever it came from—the invisibly apparent walls and floor and ceiling and mirror—then got eddied and swirled by luminous objects that didn't seem to follow the laws of physics, some repelling smoke, others drawing it in, and some just passing through it without change. Something bright pulsed to his left, but he didn't Look at it. He was busy Staring at the wolf in front of him, lit as though from within and not a shadow to be found on him, though he did not appear distorted in any way for that fact. "Who are you?"

"I am you." For a second, he thought he'd answered himself. And somehow, they both found that incredibly funny. Rolling back on the cool marble floor, smoke swirling around him and squeezing his eyes shut with mirth, he rolled onto his side and slapped the floor as some do their thigh while laughing. Something was just absolutely hilarious here, to the point of reducing the wolves to a euphoric state, as they rolled... then the reflection stood up, while the original lay there laughing. Again, something made this funny, and the original sat up, wiping tears from his eyes and Looking up at the wolf before him.

"So... ehehehe... heehee... what am I going to do to myself? Ahahah!! See, it's funny, 'cause you're ME and I don't know what you're gonna do!" They both had a good laugh at this, and it went on for a while before the reflection knelt beside the boy. He Looked quite a bit older now that he was close up. In fact, he Looked about ten years older than the boy. Wow, time sure flew. But wait, he was still young, huh? Well, that'd make sense later.

"Oh, I've already done it. Hehehe." He smiled and held up two gleaming glass balls. "These are your eyes. Funny, huh? You're blind!" And as they both started laughing, he pulled the young boy into an embrace and tossed the eyes aside, which shattered with a flash of brilliant light.

Caliga wasn't entirely sure what happened after that, but when he finally came back to his senses—sans the sense of sight—the paramedics who'd found him swore he was shouting hysterically that he was blind, and that he loved himself. "I love me! Older me, though. I'm old now! Old and blind! Heehee, how funny!" That was what one weasel rescuer him said were his exact words. He did, vaguely, remember a kiss. Several kisses. Warm, wet, passionate kisses. Warm, wet, passionate, loving, perfect kisses. And incidentally, he couldn't remember whether the older version of him—somewhere around the age of twenty-one—was wearing clothing or not. Such was the Sight, he knew now. Nakedness could be several things in the Sight without being any different.

"Mrrrrrr..." He paused in the middle of his walking, looking down and around. He couldn't see, sure, but he could See. And he definitely should have not remembered that... encounter. Yes, yes, he lost his sight then... and it was that reflection which took it... but did that mean he had to be bitter about it? All he cared about was the fact that he had never once seen—or rather Seen—his reflection since, and that was why he was bitter. Now he was the age his reflection had been and it was ten years since. He hadn't even had a DREAM about him, and so all he had was memory. Shaky memory at best. But shaky memory was more than enough to get him aroused without an outlet. "Goddammit." He muttered under his breath other, more vile curses as he walked, trying to push the beautiful version of himself out of his mind, and not quite succeeding. As he did that, another cane-wielder happened to come by and see him. As distracted as Caliga was, he still couldn't manage to miss the presence thinking being, and turned to stare with empty, useless eyes at the raccoon on the roof above him. "How long have you been there?"

"Only a few seconds." Sly answered, as he dropped down to the ground and walked up closer to Caliga. The black wolf's eyes were... white. No pupil at all. "How did you know I was here?" Sly cringed when the other laughed coldly, and gestured to his cane.

"You really don't seem to know much about wood... it's my walking stick here. Lets me See without seeing." Then he paused and straightened up, cracking his spine. "I suppose that appearing to be a simple blind beggar won't work with you, would it...? How do my clothes look?" He said, looking down but only seeing bare fur over his body, and a great deal of "smoke" swirling around him, emitted by all his canes made of different exotic—and the occasional domestic—woods.

"...Tattered, at best. I was just heading back to the s—to the house." Caliga tilted his head sharply, eyes delving into Sly's own and divining the thoughts there. For him, thoughts almost voiced were as clear as day.

"You are a thief, are you not? I can only then presume you're here after Jean Bison. I guess, then, that it would be in my best interest to aid you. Go to your safehouse, I'll follow." He said, gesturing with the stick of oily wood before changing his grip on it to hold the dense chunk more like a hiking-stick. As they walked, he noticed that there was a tiny check—a crack, for those not versed in woodworking terminology—where his thumb rested. He could have sworn he remembered to dry the wood before shaping it... oh well. It didn't matter what it looked like, he couldn't see it anyway. So he turned it in his hand to again contact only smooth surface, and continued following Sly.

Shomti, meanwhile, gazed intently at the collection of Clockwerk Parts in the corner. Bentley and Murray shifted uneasily away from the vulpine, sensing somehow an ominous aura around the fox that used to be their friend. The hippo _almost_ said something, but decided against it and returned to eating as Shomti reached out one paw and softly caressed the curve of Clockwerk's Wing. The cool steely blue metal was oddly cool beneath his hand, but he knew if he touched it with his other hand it would burn like fire on his scar. He wasn't aware of how long he was stroking that wing, but his hand was still on it when the door opened and Sly stepped in. Then, strangely, he heard someone else step in, and Sly started introducing the Gang in a voice that seemed to reach Shomti over a great distance, muted and nearly drowned out as if Sly were much further than the few yards separating the two thieves.

"That's Murray, the big pink hippo, that's Bentley the turtle, and over there's..." He shifted uneasily as the rest of the Gang realized Shomti was still staring at the Clockwerk Parts. But Caliga seemed unperturbed.

"Shomti. I have heard of him, by keeping in touch with various sources." And so the wolf strode over to the fox. Something seemed unusual about him. Something seemed... _familiar_. "Hello." It was such an easy greeting, but as the fox turned to face him, Caliga realized something. Shomti was in agony. The eyes he Saw reflected pain, suffering, and near-insanity. And the grating voice that he didn't expect—the image of Shomti that Caliga saw hadn't moved its lips—was devoid of any trace of pain. Indeed, devoid of anything but words, and the wolf was so used to divining meaning through more than the sounds that he almost didn't understand him.

"Hello. I don't believe your name was presented." Caliga took a second to pause and decipher the sounds, then looked Shomti in the eye by kneeling to get to his level.

"Call me Diospyros." When an answer did not seem forthcoming, he pressed Shomti further. "What are you wearing, Shomti? I'm afraid I can't see it. I'm blind." He'd hoped to shock the fox into revealing some emotion, but instead he was vaguely aware of the sound of cloth rustling. He imagined that Shomti's body had turned its head back towards the Clockwerk Parts, or had started to examine itself, but between the two of them, his Sight said he remained motionless.

"Clothing." Diospyros nodded for him to continue, and he did see what appeared to be a flicker of exasperation in Shomti's face. But it wasn't in his voice. "Grey shirt, tight-fitting. Grey pants, looser. A hat. Also grey." It was apparent he was only answering Diospyros to get him away now. He tried to convey that he wasn't going to leave that easily, and directed his attention towards the Clockwerk Parts, which appeared to glow black and inky before his Vision.

"Those seem to be the same as the scar on your left paw." A quiet nod from the fox that he only discerned from the same rustling of clothing that told him Shomti'd moved. "Care to tell me how it happened?" This time, Shomti's image definitely moved, the head shaking back and forth. Slow, deliberate, and full of meaning as the eyes told him all he needed to know.

What was it about this fox that seemed familiar...?

"What's in the bag, Diospyros?" Caliga tensed, then flipped the backpack around, undoing the cinch in a practiced motion before showing Shomti the twelve other canes inside, as well as a few half-finished trinkets.

"More walking sticks. I have some here for fighting—" He pulled out one made of black ebony, diospyros crassiflora, and showed it to him. "—and some for Seeing—" Caliga now pulled out a walking stick made of aromatic red cedar, replacing the ebony stick. "—and some for contacting spirits." He finished by pulling out one of his favorites, African blackwood, dalbergia melanoxylon. "I have thirteen total, all of them with different energies. I use them all at different times. Kingwood is one I use a lot, for example. Brazilian kingwood is very good at making things happen... sometimes bad things. Actually, often bad things, when I'm using it, because it's mostly just good for making things happen and most of what I need is bad. A branch falling on someone's head, for instance." He pulled out a stick that was a deep brown with black lines and a tinge of violet, thirty-six inches and carved into a mostly smooth shape aside from the handle which was contoured for his hand. Dalbergia cearensis. Caliga waved the stick in Bentley's direction, and—to his eyes—it seemed something darted out the end of it and stuck in the turtle's shell, melting into his being in a fraction of a second. "Watch."

It only took a few seconds before Murray moved past Bentley and opened up the refrigerator, not noticing Bentley in the door's path and knocking him forward a couple of steps.

"That wasn't particularly nice." The black wolf shrugged, aware of what was happening not through Sight—it was far too abstract for that—but through his other senses.

"How do you know it isn't a coincidence? After all, it may well have not been me." Shomti seemed to shrug—that was good, he was moving more now—and shifted in his seat. "I understand. They're your friends. I won't do it again." He stared hard at the fox's likeness with his Sight, and he could only just start to figure out why he looked familiar. It... it looked like him. But not. He had the same FEEL to him as that image of himself did, ten years ago. When he was eleven, who had he seen, himself or someone like this Shomti? No, that was ridiculous, he'd seen himself, or a reflection of himself. But... but Shomti was beginning to remind him somehow of that laughing, smiling, beautiful wolf.

It was no secret that Caliga didn't care for women. But it was also no secret that he didn't care for men either. He grew up without any relationships; in fact, this was a source of much concern for his (late) parents. He never had any crushes, never reacted to flirts, never flirted himself... didn't even act one way or the other. He simply couldn't be bothered with people that weren't worth his time, weren't as good as what he'd had. But... was he finally... finding someone that was? And would it be wrong to betray that vision of his that had disappeared a decade ago, to love another...?

"Where could I find some of that wood, Diospyros?" Caliga was jolted awake by Shomti tapping the ebony stick in his bag gently. He smiled softly, then shrugged, Looking down at the woods and working out which one it was by the way it Looked to his eyes..

"What do you want it for...? Depending on the size you need, it could be a lot of money. Money isn't an issue, is it, though." A statement, not a question.

"A scythe handle. I need a new weapon. First we need the blade—currently in the possession of Jean Bison—and then I need something to stick it on." Caliga nodded. With all the torment in Shomti's eyes, the pain in his hand... the death evident in the Clockwerk Parts... it was apparent why Shomti wanted a scythe. And who was Caliga to argue? He'd ended more lives in cold blood than he could count; maybe he needed the scythe, not Shomti.

"For that purpose, I imagine blackwood is best. That's this one." Shomti saw the wolf pull out a black cane, and he recognized by the shape that it was the same one he'd mentioned was good for summoning spirits. "It's very aligned with death in just about every way; I'm sure causing it would be no different." A pause, then it was held out to Shomti. "Would you like to hold it, see how it feels?"

"Thank you." He said, taking the dense wood in his hands and noting first that it was very heavy compared to everything else, which now felt light in his grasp. One effect of the wood's density was that it had almost no pores, and so could polish to a literally glassy sheen. This was what Diospyros had done, evidently, and Shomti's paws slid over the material like it was oiled glass. "This is a heavy wood."

"It sinks in water, actually. Most of the woods I use do. Well, I'm going to need that one back, but I'm sure there are some importers that can cut a plank in the size you need and send it up. If I'm still around, I wouldn't mind shaping it for you. I can guarantee that my work'll get done whatever you need it to get done."

"Yeah... well, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks." Shomti reluctantly handed over the stick, then glanced inside the pack and noted a small trinket that appeared to be made of kingwood, same as the stick he'd shown him earlier. Reaching in and holding it up in front of Diospyros, he cocked his head. "It might be nice if you could show me how you did that, and maybe lent me this to do it with. Until I get my weapon, I have to fight unarmed and that's really not as easy as I make it seem."

"It's... difficult to explain. You know, I've never been asked to teach anybody." The wolf paused, and Shomti scrutinized his face to try and find out the various emotions flowing beneath the canine's form. It wasn't hard; this one seemed to deal more in the realm of the mental than others, and so gave more away. As far as Shomti could tell, he was telling the truth. After all, why would he lie? "I wasn't ever taught, either. I suppose the best way to describe it is... imagination." He shrugged, and looked down at the trinket. "You can keep that, though, and if you figure out how to manipulate things, that's great. I'm afraid I have no way to help you though." Shomti pocketed the trinket and nodded his thanks, then looked back at the Clockwerk parts, then at Diospyros, who continued his blind stare into Shomti's eyes.

"How do you see where you're going?" He asked, almost under his breath, then recoiled when Diospyros's hand went up for his face.

"Hold on. I'm just going to show you how the world looks to me. It's a bit of a trip, so I expect you'll want to take a deep breath, but there's no way I can hurt you by doing this." Shomti reluctantly breathed in deeply, then allowed Diospyros's hand to rest on his face. He hadn't even closed his eyes before everything went black, aside from a few choice objects. Diospyros, for instance, was in front of him, without a shadow on him even though it didn't distort the way he would be expected to look. His clothing was... different, though. In fact, if Shomti squinted and tried to look very hard at him, he realized that Diospyros was actually naked, but it was as though his mind slid over that fact without processing it. Clothed or no, he was the same, and looking down Shomti noted that it applied to him as well. The next thing he noticed about Diospyros was that he was more toned than Shomti would have expected beneath that trenchcoat. It was almost certain he could hold both Murray and Shomti at bay with those arms and that chest. "Creepy, huh?"

"You could say that." Caliga chuckled, noting the way Shomti now moved so much more in the Sight. Because he was experiencing it, he was more active there. It always happened; in this case, Caliga had given Shomti temporary Sight solely to See who he was more accurately. As a result of this fact, the wolf blurted something out that he didn't realize he was going to.

"Are you related to a wolf that looks like me?" Shomti stiffened, then glared Diospyros in the face, malice pouring out of his eyes that... wait, hadn't they been golden before, or at least yellow? They were red now.

"I don't know who I'm related to, but there's no way it's someone you've met." So... was that the reason for being so restrained, so calm and composed? To avoid THIS, the crimson eyes and the harshness?

"I apologize. I was never made aware of your amnesia; I meant no insult. It's just that you look like him. That is to say, you two are very similar... again, I am sorry." How did Caliga know that was how the beautiful black wolf would have acted in the same situation? It was eerie, but what concerned him more was what he was starting to feel. Something he hadn't felt for anyone in ten years. "I should go. I have something to do." He reached his hand out and brushed over Shomti's eyes, restoring normal vision and taking away the Sight before he stood and headed for the door. "Sly, I shall have to come back some other time. For now, there are things I require put in motion, so I'll see you in the near future. If you need something..." He paused, then slung his bag around and fished out a small trinket of red cedar, tossing it to Shomti. "Have him find me with that. Shouldn't be too hard for him now." As he tramped out into the snow and headed quickly for the brightly pulsing ley line over the road, he looked up at the sky. As far as he could See in the long, long night, there were lights. Aurora Borealis...? The northern lights? Judging by the lack of staring up at the sky being done by the guards, that was unlikely. "How sad. The lights are lonely without a parallel... lonely lights...? Aurora devia, huh? Hehe..." So he tramped off into the night, invisible thunderclaps and waves of unimaginable, untouchable power streaming over his head, and laughed to himself as he tapped at the road in front of him with his olivewood cane, the laughing like an eleven-year-old with his first crush, and the tapping like an old blind man. I'm old and blind...! Heehee...

Yep, I went there. Not just some yaoi in there, but some pedo yaoi. Yay. But, since I don't want to have to change the rating on this story, I went into very very little detail, and I will go into no more if there is any further questionable activity. I tried something new with this chapter, which is changing the style of writing for the different characters that have their viewpoint, and using different names in the narration for Caliga depending on the one the current "main" would know. I attempted to make Caliga's passages much more sensory, and I wrote Shomti's the way I normally do though perhaps a touch more abstracted from reality. And, before anybody asks, yes, I used all real woods and their real psionic properties for Caliga's walking sticks. I got most of my information (some is from my own experience as an exotic woodworker) from and simply adapted it to the kind of workings that Caliga would use it for, discarding information he wouldn't care about like the ruling deity. I didn't bring the wood forward as prominantly as I would have liked in this chapter; I may introduce more specific information on the various types of wood in the next chapters, but it will never be out of context. It'd be nice if you could read through that website if you're a serious follower of Genius. I know I haven't got many, but... *shrug* It will help with understanding more what different woods are like. Also, I don't CARE if you want to point out that you don't believe in magick or psionics; they exist in the story, and that should be enough. Whether they exist IRL is unrelated and it isn't my concern if you think they do or don't.


	11. Playing With Fire

Sorry about the length. I know it's short, and I wish I could make it longer, but it's not something in this case that I can control. I do hop that it doesn't go unnoticed that the first five paragraphs are roughly the same length, because that was a very difficult task, to say what I wanted to and keep it in the same sort of range. If you don't know much about the properties of certain woods, for example cocobolo and koa and ebony and such, then there's a link at the end of my last chapter that I think you should look at. I mention all the woods by name here, and so far all of them that I've said show up in that reference. Without further ado, then, read through and be satisfied while I work on my next chapter.

Playing With Fire

_Whoosh._ Jean Bison admired the way he couldn't even feel the axe passing through the tree before him, and if he didn't know any better he'd say he had missed. But when he saw the tree start to tilt, he knew that he hadn't. "Timber!!" Not that anybody was around but him. The giant pine toppled to the ground with a loud thud. "We-hell, a tree fell in the forest, but sumbuddy _was_ here to hear it. Guessin' it really happened, then." With a loud chuckle, he moved on to the next tree, and it only took the one swing of the Talons to fell another giant pine tree that was older than him.

_Whoosh_. Shomti was practicing one of his martial arts movements on an invisible opponent, something called shadow-boxing, and his paws moved so fast that they disturbed the air within the safehouse audibly. He held the trinket made of kingwood fast in his hand as well, the dulled ends and narrowed body making it a perfect percussion weapon for crushing a temple here and there, or breaking a rib. Also, he could swear every time he picked the wood up, there were a lot of interesting coincidences around him. He wanted to talk to Bentley, and what do you know...

_Whoosh_. Bentley swiveled around in his chair, readjusting his glasses and hat before looking at Shomti and clearing his throat to get the vulpine's attention. This was just a few seconds before he realized he didn't need to do that, as Shomti was already looking intently at him. "You know, that's really creepy, Shomti. Well, anyway, I've got a job for you to do. I'd ask Murray, but..." He glanced around the safehouse, afraid the hippo might hear. "He's really not the right kind of person for it." Shomti nodded for Bentley to continue. "We've got to get rid of a few of the guards in the area..."

_Whoosh._ Sly's cane descended quickly upon the elk's skull, knocking him out and probably knocking his brain about quite a bit. Not one to waste time, he kicked the body over onto its front and with one well-placed swing Sly broke the guard's neck. Around a minute later, he'd searched the body for loot and proceeded to crunch through the snow towards his directive, a large building that he knew housed the sawmill they'd have to sabotage. It was... uh, he wasn't sure exactly what it was about the sawmill that meant they had to take it out. The plan was Bentley's, not his.

_Whoosh_. Murry tossed the guard into the icy bay, clothes whipping in the wind as the body flew through the air and landed with a splash in the Arctic waters. "The MURRAY is not pleased with your struggles!" Then he slapped himself to keep warm, curling up into sort of a little ball but remaining upright, arms crossed and shivering. "The Murray is also very cold... he shall have to locate warmer clothing. But not until he has smashed the whatchacallit that Bentley has asked him to!" So he started off in the direction of a building pointed out to him by his much smaller friend.

_Whoosh._ Caliga swung the ebony stick over his head in a wide arc, the potent energies in the wood being released and crackling in an expanding circle invisible to all but his own eyes. With a thought, he focused them onto a disc which lowered to the ground below him, a little wider than he was tall. Jamming the ebony into the ground just inside the circle, he fished around inside his bag. "Spirit..." Then he pulled out a similarly shaped cane made of a much less dense and lighter wood, though not by much. It had a soothing brown-tan color with just a touch of red to it, and it was polished smooth under his fingers. This particular cane, he never really used except in ritual, which was itself an uncommon occurrence for him. It was cherry, and it represented... "Earth..." Next he fished around and pulled out another exotic, deep purple with a bit of white mixed in. It didn't seem to have any color in it except for purple; this particular specimen wasn't maroon like some others, but was truly purple. Purpleheart wood, for the element of... "Air..." Quickly he drew out an angry red stick from his bag, pulsing to his eyes with the energy of everything masculine and passionate. Anger, hatred, strength, and action were all contained therein. This he jammed into the ground another fifth around the circle to stand for... "Fire..." Last in his circle was a rich brown wood that, though smooth, appeared to have waves undulating over the surface of the wood. They were chatoyant and seemed to move whenever the wood was tilted. He jammed it into the ground and it let off a bluish smoke, rising up with the other colored smokes from the rest of his canes, completing his circle with the final element, represented by koa wood... "Water."

"I have called all five elements here to bear witness to and stand guard over this exertion of my power upon the world. Let them, and my target, heed my strength." Anticipating no response as the smoke rose and began to form a shimmering hemisphere, sealing him in, he raised one hand and began to draw in the air. To begin with there was no change, but as he continued the pattern he was tracing started to glow faintly in the sight, and then with a flick of his mind it rose to the top of the shield he'd cast. A valve, to let what he wanted out and what he desired to hear in. Immediately, a voice pierced the air around him, or seemed to because he knew it was just in his head.

"Who is calling us all here, where no civilization has stood since the dawn of the Earth and where none shall for millennia?" Instantly Caliga answered, his voice strong in the night around him but echoing only through his mind and that of the asker.

"One who would have you bend to his will, if his will can bend you." It took only a moment before the booming laughter rolled through his mind, but he extended a hand upward to its entrance point. "Come in, that I may see you and we may have a struggle between minds." It wouldn't work, of course. But it was customary to offer.

"I will come in there only when you agree to come out here, little wolfie. I will not do battle on your terms, just as you will not do battle on mine." So that was how he wanted to play. Little wolfie, huh...? Well, he had more up his sleeve. Fishing through his sack, whistling a lively tune, Caliga finally grabbed what it was he wanted. A little trinket—he wasn't interested enough to have a full-size cane—made of poplar. A very good wood indeed for evocation, and if he needed to for banishing.

"I do not agree with your logic. When I said come in, that was NOT a request, Old One." Tightening his grip on the poplar, he reached out with his mind and grabbed a hold of the other's, pulling as hard as he could with mind and body to draw him in. It took some time, yes, but he had done it with stronger spirits than this, so eventually he ended with the spirit in his circle. He looked it over, cocking a head and pulling out his kingwood cane. "This is where tradition falls apart. Will you bend to my will, or will I break you first?"

"That threat holds no power. You have much to learn... Very well, we will combat one another." The spirit started to sit cross-legged—no doubt to prepare his hexes before the battle—just as Caliga swung his kingwood stick club-style overhead and cracked him across the head. Due to kingwood's unique spiritual nature, it didn't even jar his hand, and just pushed the spirit against the wall.

"We fight now. You have only what you can create before I stop you, and I have the same. We shall see who has more to learn." Standing shakily, the ghost of sorts nodded his agreement and closed his eyes to focus his energy. It took only a second to create a rudimentary curse, but Caliga was able to dissipate the virus before it even reached him and stab forward with his cane, this time manipulating the programming inherent in the wood to create a sensation similar to fire. All it took was one hit.

"Stop! I yield... your will is strongest." Absently, Caliga removed the burn from his spirit. "What would you have me do?"

"I want you to make several things happen. Here's the first of them..." And so the wolf listed off his various conditions, which of course took quite a long time. The spirit nodded as he listened, evaluating how difficult it would be and raising his furry eyebrows as he did. "Can it be done?"

"I shall call in favors and see what can be accomplished... master. Am I to assume you gave them to me in order of priority?" Caliga paused, then shook his head as he remembered something that he had almost forgotten. He always asked for it, and he'd been desiring it for ten years now.

"For the most part. But here's one that I forgot and that's the most important of all of them. I... I want my wolf back." He linked minds with the spirit before him, and traded memories with him to explain what he meant. "I want him back. I want to see him, I want him to hold me and I want him to kiss me again. I... I need him. At the least, just once, to... to get some closure. We never said goodbye, as far as I can remember... I want to at least have that option if nothing more." He paused, remembering all he'd listed, and nodded. "That's all. Go." And with that everything was back to normal. His circle was gone, just a bunch of sticks in the ground, his spirit was gone, and his energy was gone. Even though he'd mostly used the energy from the ebony—a well of power—he did have to dip into his reserves once or twice, and that exhausted him as always even though he theoretically had much of his power left at his disposal. The voice came back, momentarily, to mock him as it left.

_You are playing with fire, little wolfie... you are going to get burned, sooner or later._

Yay for epic endings! XD Unfortunately I already have the names of the final two chapters, but I'm nowhere near WRITING them yet. Ugh. But I should be able to remember them. Update on the Marine Corps thing that I mention in my bio: I won't be able to join as early as I wanted to, because I still have to get the fifteen college credits and I have not signed up for summer classes. Based on various situations, I've actually decided to wait until I'm eighteen to make sure I really do want to do it. If I still do at eighteen, I'm joining. If I'm uncertain, then I can always sign up later.


	12. Reflections

Back to having semi-long chapters again... that makes me happy... well, I tried to bring in some things here that would be an interesting twist. Like I don't have enough of those... :P I hope you like the ending bit. I'm rather fond of it, myself. You'll see what it is when you get there. *sticks out tongue teasingly* I'm not telling. XD But you're going to enjoy it, I think. And yaoi fans rejoice! I have included a cute scene, much more adorable than the one other reference before. Read on, read on.

Reflections

Diospyros eventually returned to the safehouse, and it seemed to him when he arrived that Shomti had calmed down considerably. This incidentally was because Shomti had gotten to let go, for once, and kill again. There was a very large staff to run the very large logging site, and he had to thin their numbers to occupy Jean Bison with running the place rather than defending the Talons. All part of the plan. When Shomti, sitting in the corner and staring at the Clockwerk parts as usual, noticed Diospyros entering, he stood and walked to his room, motioning with his fingers for the wolf to follow him. He had an unusual desire to talk to him alone, away from the others... even though Bentley was the only one left in the safehouse right now.

Once the blind wolf had seated himself on the bed with a sigh of relief and stretched out on it—Shomti blinked and sat down on the floor adjacent in reaction to this—he opened one blind, white eye and gazed down at the fox on the floor.

"I apologize for having aggravated you earlier. It's just..." He paused, then looked up at the ceiling. "Never mind. It isn't something that would concern you anyway." Shomti shrugged, leaning back onto his elbows and looking up at Diospyros.

"It doesn't matter. I'll listen. It isn't as though I have time for anything else." A cold voice... chillier than the Arctic. But there seemed to be in it a touch more warmth than Shomti presented towards him earlier. The wolf's heart did a backflip in his chest, and he swallowed hard to ignore the feeling. What was THAT...?

"When I was young, around eleven, I saw a wolf... thing. He looked a lot like me. That is, he appeared the same as I do now. We..." Caliga paused, then opened his eyes and looked down at Shomti. "Anyway, he had the same feeling as you do now. You reminded me of him." Shomti shrugged, looking out a window.

"I can't help you, I'm afraid. I've no idea who it is I'm related to, and as I said, it isn't possible for them to be anybody you know." Shomti considered telling Diospyros the big secret, that he was from an entirely different universe, but decided against it and instead looked up at the ceiling as Diospyros had. "A long story. I won't bore you with it." The tiniest drop of venom in those words kept Diospyros from pursuing conversation, so instead he nodded silently. It only took a few seconds before Shomti decided that neither would speak before the other unless he took the initiative, so... "How did you go blind and get the sight you have now, Diospyros?"

"I was in an old, old museum, abandoned in fact, about ten years ago. You know how kids are, they want to see and touch and feel everything. I burst through a locked door and there was a mirror made of... some kind of black wood. It could have been African blackwood, or it could have been Gabon ebony. Either way, I looked into it..." Again his eyes diverted to the ceiling, again they slid back down to Shomti before he spoke. "And then everything was gone. Everything but him, and... well, the rest isn't that important. When I stopped laughing I was in the hospital, and I was permanently blind for no apparent reason. It was him." Caliga tried not to put too much blame into the words, because he really didn't feel any resentment. "He gave me this Sight, and he took my other one away. I just... want to see him again, you know...?" A deep breath that turned into a bit of a sniffle, and he rolled onto his side.

"The universe is only so big. You'll find him someday, Diospyros." Shomti said, standing and walking out of the room. He had lots to think about, and he intended to do lots of thinking. Caliga, meanwhile, sniffled against the sheet he was lying on and forced himself to relax. Shomti was right, wasn't he...? He'd find him someday. But why couldn't that day be today?

_So impatient, little wolfie. I'm working on it, I told you._ Caliga rolled his eyes and spat a mental response back.

_If you're not working on it RIGHT NOW I'm going to gut you alive._ That shut him up, and Caliga was left to cry in silent peace while Shomti stared into the polished surface of Clockwerk's eyes. He knew they were lifeless, but they still housed such a malice that he couldn't help but think they were looking right back at him with a hatred that could have withered a lesser man's heart. But Shomti was too strong for that. Bentley swiveled around in his chair and cleared his throat to make sure Shomti was listening.

"Shomti, I have another thing for you to do. We've sabotaged Jean Bison's operation, and Sly's tailing him to watch his reactions. So far they've been overwhelmingly negative... which is exactly how we want them. Sly tells me Jean Bison is heading straight for a local pub, sort of a truck stop in the area, and so to further lower the overall morale of this logging site you're going to go in there and chat it up with the customers." Shomti chuckled coldly under his breath.

"You mean I'm going to go in there and kill a few people. How many do you need done?" Bentley shrugged, looking at his computer screen and punching in a few digits.

"According to my calculations, the more the better. Better knock everyone who's in there. If he has the Talons on him, see if you can best Jean Bison and take them. If not, let him live. We won't be able to get the Talons if we don't beat him while they're out of his safe." Shomti nodded, standing and cracking his neck and knuckles maliciously. He left the kingwood stick given to him by Diospyros, however; something that beautiful shouldn't be stained by blood. At least, not under circumstances like the ones coming up.

"I'm coming too. Gotta do something to help you guys, after all." Caliga, looking around the room with his Sight, saw Shomti nodding as though it was only to be expected and Bentley looking at him confusedly. Then Caliga removed the trenchcoat and shirt he could feel on his body but not see, and Bentley understood. The wolf was every bit as muscled as he had appeared to Shomti earlier when he gave him the Sight. The fox, he noticed, did his best not to stare. Or at least, so it seemed to Caliga. He was uncertain as to whether what he Saw was an accurate representation of reality, but the possibility that it was gave his heart a little flutter.

"Alright. Well, you know best what cane to use for fighting, so grab that one and leave the rest here. We're going to need to move fast. According to Sly, we're about a mile away from the pub and Jean Bison is only half that." Diospyros shrugged, pulling an elaborately carved cane made of a deep red wood with a black-brown pattern like the skin of a python latticed over the surface. He'd had to work very, very carefully on the sinuously twisted snakewood weapon, manipulating the moisture content both with his environment and his energy before he was able to seal it with a powerful casting over the wood binding it to an animal spirit and carve the head of the cane into a representation of the snake ghost's own face. As it was, however, the stick's twists and curves served to increase force by lessening surface area, and the spirit bound to it had a nasty side effect on the victims, imbuing strikes with a sort of psychosomatic attack that forced whatever it hit to replicate several symptoms of a venomous snakebite. One of the most prominent, however, was the immense pain that came with it. Whenever Caliga looked at it, he saw a pair of serpents intertwined around each other, one exactly like the cane he'd carved and made entirely of snakewood, and the spirit he'd bound to it, a smallish serpent called a stiletto snake which was related to the rattlesnake. It had no antivenom as yet.

"All set. You long distance run every now and then, right Shomti?" The vulpine shrugged, making a "Sorta" sign with his hand. "Then this ought to be miserable for you. Look at it this way, we have to cover ground twice as fast as Jean Bison. He's walking, we'll be running. A mile walking is something like fifteen minutes, so we'll do it in seven or eight. Shouldn't be a problem; if you're fit at all, you can probably run that in eight. If you get tired I can carry you." Caliga said, opening the door and motioning for Shomti to go first.

Seven and a half minutes later, Caliga set the warm fox he'd been carrying over his shoulder back onto the ground, muscles rippling as he tried to put emphasis on his ability to lift all hundred and thirty pounds easily. "I just want you to know that I only got tired because like I said, I don't run often."

"I know, I know. There's Jean Bison, let's go in and rest." Caliga said, pointing behind him at a distant person, definitely something like a minute or two away in full. He leaned heavily on his cane as he walked in, controlling his breathing so he didn't pant like a dog and attract attention as the two walked up to the bar. He did, however, sit down as soon as possible, and raised a hand to call the bartender over. Shomti did his best to understand the dialect shared between the bartender and Diospyros, but to him it was nonsense punctuated with the occasional eh, aboot, and other similar words. When the two foaming ales were brought before Shomti and Diospyros, the black wolf smiled apologetically to Shomti. "'E's noh frum roond 'ere. He speeeaks like an American." This last was pronounced with an exaggerated accent on the "can" in American, and Shomti nodded.

"Just visiting up here." The moose seemed to get a real kick out of that, exchanged a few more nonsense words with Diospyros, and left the two alone. "You know, I don't think I'm old enough to drink beer." Then he paused, watching the wolf in front of him drink fully half the contents of the glass before him, and raised an eyebrow as he sniffed his own drink. "And I definitely don't think I want to."

"It's an acquired taste, Shom." The vulpine flinched, glaring at Diospyros and directing a small, next-to-unnoticeable punch at his chest. Of course, it was only next-to-unnoticeable if you weren't the one getting hit. Caliga was met with a full force blow to his solar-plexus, knocking the wind right out of him. "Right," he wheezed, "Shomti it is, then. Sorry."

"Remember it." Surprisingly, his eyes didn't even start to fade red as he said it. They remained the same beautiful golden yellow, just turned hard and cold as he glared into Diospyros's own empty eyes. "Shomti is my name, the only one I have left, and I will not have it butchered for the sake of something so slight as convenience or appearance. Got that?" It was with a bit of shock that Caliga realized he nodded submissively, and his ears were down, and his tail had somehow tucked up between his legs. This kid was giving off strong signals. Signals he'd seen before... that he'd given off before. And somehow he was doing it better than anybody he'd seen. Hell, to make Caliga back down like a scared puppy, he had to be something truly incredible.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize y—that you cared so much about it. I guess it makes sense. Like you said, you... haven't got much left... I'll keep that in mind from now on, Shomti." He said, taking a deep breath to stretch out his chest again and try to get rid of the ache in it. Shomti, meanwhile, grabbed his beer and—just as Jean Bison walked in—turned to his left and tapped the logger that was sitting and enjoying a beer next to him.

"Whatchoo want?" No words in response; Shomti just raised his beer over the lumberjack's head and started pouring. "Oh, is that it, eh?!" Shomti couldn't quite make out what he said next, but it was certainly vulgar, and he didn't particularly care. Once the glass was empty and he was sure everyone was looking at him—several were already getting up to walk over intimidatingly—he smashed the glass down on his neighbor's head, the shards digging into his scalp and causing a lot of blood to immediately show up. As the fox stood on the unconscious man's neck, he was aware of a lot of shouting and murmuring going on around him. Caliga sighed and stood up, lifting his cane into a fighting position. He was about to call the two's challenge out when Shomti lunged bloody-eyed at the nearest moose, taking hold of his antlers and wrenching to snap the unfortunate logger's neck.

"I guess that gets the message across too." Whipping his cane up over his head, he crushed the nearest guard's collarbone and let his screams of pain serve as the challenge to everyone. Shomti, somewhere along the way, had ended up behind the bar dodging stools and breaking bones with whatever he could find. That included bottles of beer, empty glasses, and once a full keg of ale that he lifted with one arm and threw. It shattered on impact, but not before hurling a whole group of men several feet back. Then he ended up with a pair of steak knives and a grimace of dark enjoyment. His eyes were once more crimson, and more than once loggers hesitated between which to fight, the fox that didn't seem to care about his body—evidenced by the blood running down his hand from the cuts he received after his first stunt—or the bodies of others... or the wolf whose cane didn't kill, just left screaming in absolute agony as a backdrop for the fight. Some left. At least one stumbled to the ground when Shomti flawlessly threw a can over the melee and crushed the base of his skull.

"Diospyros, has Bison got the Talons?" A quick glance aboot the room, and Caliga shouted back through the explosions of light that marked pain in his world of sights that were senses. "What?!"

"I said he doesn't have them! Watch behind you!" Shomti jerked his elbow back into the moose's sternum, cracking multiple ribs before he twisted through and used his other hand to go up and punch with a semi-pointed fist deep into his throat. It only took a split second for his body to continue the turn and pivot into a turning kick that snapped the lumberjack's neck.

"Damn, then we'll just have to kill everyone BUT him!" Everything after that was a blur. As a matter of fact, for most of the time Shomti was a blur, a red-eyed blur killing everything it came across. Every once in a while he'd notice that he was fighting Jean Bison, and he'd just hit him several times, then push him back. Eventually Diospyros gave him a good hard jab with the cane in his stomach, and the very, very large man knelt to the ground with a groan, gritting his teeth and determined not to shout as his body registered immense pain in the area, even though for the most part it was just neurons firing on their own. The right neurons, however, all at the same time, could cause just about anything. This particular combination hurt as though something was gnawing its way through his insides. He stayed there until both Diospyros and Shomti left, satisfied with their work and patting each other on the back. Shomti left a bloody pawprint on Diospyros's back when he did that, but he didn't mention it. As they went back to the safehouse, the pain gradually faded. Proximity and time were the two factors. Take away the spirit, and it couldn't inflict pain. After that, it would go away by itself. This was what happened, and by the time the two were safely back at headquarters Jean Bison was able to wrench himself to his feet.

"Ughh! Them two aren't gunna get the best of me again, no sir... they wouldn't have been able to do that if I'da had my Talons with me." So he grabbed his walking stick, only to find it snapped, and so he threw the two splintered pieces onto the ground and started to trek back to his cabin.

Exactly as he did that, Caliga looked around the safehouse. There was an extra presence. Sly was there, Bentley was there, and Murray was still smashing things... so why were there three people? He was in fact about to find out why Sly and Bentley were talking so interestedly with the third person when he walked in and Saw the spirit he'd summoned.

"I have done as you requested. Well, partially. I've woven most of it into the fabric of space-time, and let me tell you it was—" Caliga nodded exasperatedly. "Of course. Now, as for your wolf... as I'm sure you know, that's the hardest part, but I HAVE tracked him down for you. The trip is yours to make, though; I've no way of bringing what you need here." A glance at Shomti got a slight nod in response to the question the fox must have known he was going to ask.

"That's fine. What do I need that I have to go get? Anything for another chance at him. Anything." The demon before the Gang cackled in laughter, head in one paw.

"A mirror. You know the one. Now, about your other requests... there were a couple that, obviously, I did have trouble with... well, you'll see what I mean when it comes to pass. Am I released, then?"

"You may go... but until I get my mirror, you are mine still. Until I get my wolf, you are not released. Clear?" The spirit seemed, to Caliga at least—the other three simply felt its presence and heard its voice rather than Seeing it as vividly as Caliga could—to be about to complain. Then a tightening of his grip on the cane, and a nearly-audible hiss from the snakewood's inhabitant, persuaded him to change his mind.

"...Clear. I'll be gone for the time being, then. You know how to find me if you need me." With a smirk, Diospyros nodded, and a rush of wind past his face accompanied the spirit's departure. Shomti looked around, then headed for the bathroom to wash the blood off his hands.

"Now what have I got myself into this time..." Only the fox's keen ears picked it up, and he emerged a minute or two later drying his paws with a paper towel now tinged deep crimson red.

"Us. I'll consider it payment for your cooperation with the creation of my weapon. Bentley, how soon can we get the Talons? Diospyros, I need you to order that African darkwood, or whatever it's called, so it'll be here before we get out of here. Sly..." He paused, looking at the raccoon glaring back at him. "I'm going to ask you to lighten up."

"Why?"

It was a simple question, really. Everything had happened so fast that nobody had noticed Shomti making decisions for the entire Gang based upon the whims of this one new member and as payment for something that served only his own interests. That is, nobody but Sly. Now that Bentley'd had it pointed out to him, though, it was apparent in his face that he was on Sly's side this time. Sly beat him to the punch pressing Shomti, continuing his line of query with a reiteration of what he'd already slammed home with one word.

"Why should we help him? What's he done that you and Murray couldn't do yourselves?... And in fact, what have YOU done that Murray couldn't do? You're rushing all of us so that we can all go on this little trip to make your new interest feel like he's reimbursed for something he's doing that'll benefit you. Just you. Nobody else needs you to have a stupid scythe. In fact, nobody else here needs YOU, Shomti. So why the Hell are you starting to talk like you own the Cooper Gang? You aren't my father's son. And I was WRONG, wrong, wrong WRONG to say you'd ever be a master thief. You're just a lowly murderer, and him too. We don't need folks like you." Shomti shrugged, devoid of emotion as he turned toward Bentley.

"How long, Bentley?" Sly rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, then softly rubbed the bridge of his nose while he laughed under his breath and Shomti ignored him. Caliga could already feel the tension rising in the room, but Shomti seemed not to acknowledge it.

"That's all you ever cared about, isn't it?. Never me, never Murray, never Bentley, never the Gang at all, just yourself. You haven't done one thing for us, just leeched and leeched off our kindness and good will, and meanwhile you got the whole Gang chalked up as murderers." Shomti only now turned back towards Sly, raising his left hand, gloveless, to show the scar that proved at least some of Sly's words wrong.

"Nothing, huh? How about enduring Hell? Bentley, I've asked you twice now, and I'm going to make it three. How long until we can get the Talons?"

"J-just a few hours. I guess it all depends—" He gulped and adjusted his collar, "Depends on the, uh, on when Jean Bison gets them out of his safe. Soon as he does that, I guess it's POSSIBLE for you to go in there and get them, but..." Shomti nodded, striding to the corner of the room and grabbing one of the Clockwerk parts off the pile without even having to look and see which one it was.

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

"If you don't need me, then don't assume I'm here because I need you. Murray's nice enough. He likes me, at least; I suppose that's plenty for me. Bentley's smart enough to be on my level. And you used to like me. I never needed you, I wanted you. I stayed by choice, even after my friend betrayed me and the Heart alienated me from the whole gang. I chose to stay even though you didn't like me, even though Murray couldn't bring himself to talk to me, and even though Bentley didn't understand me. Now, if you tell me to go, I will. I have no more reason to stay now that I see what my friends are reduced to at their core. Cannibalistic, spineless, or ignorant." He paused, then looked at Bentley once more. "I am forced to stay until I get what I want, which is also what you want: the Talons. You want them out of the hands of the Klaww Gang? You can be assured that whatever parts are with me are totally safe. The Heart is bonded to me. The Talons will be to me what Sly's cane is to him. Both safe. Everything else is yours."

"Now you just wait a second, Shomti—" It seemed to the fox that Sly was about to complain about his claiming a few of the Clockwerk parts as his own. But a quick glare silenced him.

"It's like a body that was once a person. The soul leaves, and what is left is no more than an object, a thing, no different from any other thing. Your friendship has gone, and you are no more to me than any other person. Everyone in this room knows how much I care for lives other than those of my friends and myself." A snarl followed these words, and a look deep into Shomti's eyes confirmed it for the raccoon, only driven even further home by the next single utterance. "Nothing."

"...Fine. You get the Talons, you get your wood, and you get out. One second longer than you have to and I'll..." Here he faltered for words, trying to think of some threat that might perhaps hold some water, and Diospyros chuckled even before Shomti could manage a response.

"You'll what? Kill one of us, both of us? Friend, I could hold back you, Shomti, and this Murray I've heard of. And there is no way I will allow you to hurt Shomti. You just think about that. But, I think neither of us have any desire to stay after seeing your hospitality, so you should be fine." Shomti, finding nothing more to say, threw one more threatening glance around the room and walked out. He sat on the nearest bench-like object and looked up at the skies. It was still night, and if he focused he could imagine the Northern Lights up above. Caliga sat next to him, wordlessly looked at his face, and gently touched both his eyelids. "They're beautiful, aren't they...?"

"Yes... I've never seen the Aurora Borealis. But these can't be them." He paused, looking over at the muscular wolf, who was staring into Shomti's eyes. "I can't think of anyone else that would have a name for these lights... so... what do you call them?"

"The lonely lights... look, look there. You can see a black section, and a red section. When you think about it, we're both just lonely lights in the night sky of this dark otherworld, and we're trying to find our way around... a stumble here and there is nothing so unusual, and probably not as severe as it always seems at first." The vulpine sighed and naturally leaned over into Caliga's chest, feeling powerful arms wrap around him and hold him there in a warm embrace.

"I don't want to think that it was all just a mistake... but... in retrospect, maybe that's what it was. Seems... everything's clearer in your reflections..."

"Yeah... I guess you could say that..." This time, when Shomti sighed, Caliga sighed too and rested his head on top of Shomti's. It felt so natural, he didn't even think about it, just tried to find solace in the warmth. It was cold out, and the lights above, the black and red slowly merging, provided no heat for the two. "You could definitely say that..."

Yayz. If you liked it, I'd appreciate a few more reviews. You readers are the biggest reason that this is my longest continuing story, and I'm feeling like I'm close to the end of this story's arc. Don't worry! If more than five people between now and the end message me for a sequel, or even mention it in a review, then that's enough for me to write one. I probably would anyway. Now, as for the story's development, what does everyone think of Caliga's greatly increasing role in the story? I like him, a lot, as a character. It's fun to bring out someone who's really nothing but a kid on the inside, and put him next to someone who's never been a kid and has always been cynical and logical. That sort of juxtaposition is just... awesome. But, yeah. Note, I decided not to write the fight scene between Shomti/Diospyros and Jean Bison in the next chapter. If nobody asks for it, I won't put it in, but if I feel like it and someone asks me to before I have the next chapter finished, then yes, I'll write it out and add it to the beginning. I've tried to take this away from a bunch of fight scenes connected by plot here and there, and turn it into a lot of plot with some reference to fighting and a couple spots where it's very explicit about the fighting.


	13. Nothing

Woohoo! Thirteenth chapter! Sorry it's a bit short. And sorry I didn't have the author's nots up immediately, I had to do something special to upload this one which prevented me from spending my usual ten to fifteen minutes on writing out a nice author's note at the beginning and the end. Anyway, in this story I even further pursue the relationship between Shomti and Diospyros, because I think they're a cute couple and bringing them closer together will be a great catalyst for ANGST!!! Because angst is a good story element. XD But mostly because of how fucking CUTE those two are. Also, the title is supposed to have the elipsis "..." at the beginning of the title, but is being an ass and not letting me do that.

...Nothing

Caliga scraped with his hard-to-see knife at the block of incredibly visible—despite being black—block of African blackwood that Shomti had paid for with some of the money he took from the Gang. He figured it was only fair for him to get some part and parcel of the coins he helped to steal, and Caliga had enforced this by watching the Gang while Shomti took several hundred coins. Nobody had moved against them, and Shomti must have been having a stroke of kindness since he only took a little more than enough to pay for the block of exotic wood. Caliga had asked him later how they'd get to their destination, and he raised an eyebrow. "How are you accustomed to traveling? We'll walk part of the way, of course." And food, water, other necessities? "Come on, you never fooled me. You haven't bought a single thing in ages. We'll steal what we need. Not that hard, after all. In fact, we can just hold up a single gas station and get enough. Trust me, nobody'll know who I am, nobody can track my prints, and no camera footage can identify me. I'm... not from around here." Caliga had sighed once more, but that was that. A week of walking would take them to a small town, Shomti suggested, and they could call a shuttle and pay for it with stolen money. No problem. They'd get to the airport, wait in the restroom for travelers that looked like them, mug them and swap clothes, and buy tickets, and be gone before anybody figured it out.

"I still say, Shomti, that we should have taken more money." Right now they were based temporarily in the home of some people that had gladly let the two stay. Shomti couldn't talk to them—they practically spoke a foreign language this deep into Canada—but Diospyros could and his quick tongue combined with a quicker wit won them a place to sleep. Apparently, he'd explained their appearance as Shomti having run away from home down in the States to come up and live with Melanoxylon, his boyfriend and senior by three and a half years. Not the story Shomti would have chosen, but he supposed it worked, and at least it kept the inhabitants out of their temporary bedroom.

"And aggravate them more? What I did was a strategy of conflict avoidance. Besides, it isn't like we need it. I've got all I need to survive: myself. And you have all you need, it seems." Caliga continued chipping away at the scythe handle for Shomti. The piece he was working on had been a little difficult to find, but it wasn't too unusual a size to find this particular exotic in. After all, it was the standard for woodwind musical instruments, so it had to be available in pieces big enough for that purpose. A forty-eight inch piece wasn't too ridiculously difficult to locate. As Caliga was shaping the shaft, he noted that the fox to his right was fiddling with one of Clockwerk's claws.

"Shomti, do you mind if I ask you an honest question?" The vulpine raised his eyes from the razor-edged talon, and set it down beside him with a shake of his head. "Well, I see fear in everyone's eyes when they look at the Clockwerk parts. Fear, hatred, anger, all of those. Why aren't you afraid of Clockwerk? And why are they? What could he have done?" Shomti chuckled deep within his throat.

"Sly belongs to a long line of master thieves... apparently, it's in their blood to be the very best. Ever since the first of them, back in Egypt it seems, there's been another master thief that tried to compete with the Coopers. Since he couldn't best them in thieving, he replaced his mortal body with immortal and indestructible machinery... and killed them. Every single one, one after the other. When it came to Sly's father, he took their book of thieving secrets and techniques, to prove that Sly wouldn't be a good thief without it. Sly killed Clockwerk." He paused. "Almost. He broke him apart and the pieces fell into a volcano. But Clockwerk himself is still alive and well in those pieces. As for why I don't fear him..." A deep breath and Shomti raised his paw, back facing Diospyros. "He scarred me. Physically, sure, but mostly mentally. If you've ever lived an eternity of killing, you know what I mean when I say he put me through Hell. I'm too busy hating him to death to fear him at this point."

"I think I'm beginning to understand why everyone hates you, too." Shomti raised an eyebrow and picked up the Talon again, flipping it over and over in his paws. "I don't mean I hate you. Far from it. But they... can see the Clockwerk in you, is the best way to put it. You scare them. I, on the other hand... do my best to see you for who you are." He reached out and softly took Shomti's paw into his own. For some reason, the fox decided not to resist Diospyros's touch as he looked into the wolf's blind but deep eyes. "And that does not scare me. I..." He paused, then looked down and back up, as though embarrassed about what he wanted to say. Eventually, it seemed, he decided against it. "Sorry."

"What, what's the matter?" Shomti looked up at him quizzically, at which point Caliga smiled down at him.

"...Nothing." And just like that, he returned to his work, leaving Shomti to puzzle while he continued carving. What had he been about to say to Shomti? That he loved the fox? Ridiculous... it had only been two days, they were going to go get back his real love, and... Well, someone as amazing as Shomti was likely taken already. Whoever got him, they were lucky indeed.

Neyla cursed as she set the binoculars down. _I must be cursed. First he's gone from me, and now he's left the Gang too? He's making my life difficult._ She turned to face her subordinates. "We're going after Shomti and the black wolf. They're the greatest threat in the Gang, and while the Cooper Gang is predictable enough we have no idea where these two are going or what they're after. I want you and you to watch the rest of the Gang and report to me if they're trying anything. Everyone else will come with me and keep surveillance on our primary targets. Effective now." She said, standing and grabbing the keys to a plainclothes-man's car. "Everybody in, we're going to follow from a mile behind."

Shomti lay down, taking off his shirt and rolling it into a ball to act as a pillow, closing his eyes for a few minutes before they opened. He let them wander the room, but found they came to rest on Diospyros, thinking of the soft embrace he gave him after the Cooper Gang essentially threw him out. How comforting it was in his arms, and comfortable... the way he felt at ease instead of on edge as he did with Neyla. Neyla could and would do anything, anytime. But Diospyros was... safe. It didn't feel like Shomti needed to guard himself against the wolf. As he pondered this, he happened to notice that same canine staring at him with the same look he imagined he himself had on his face.

"What is it, Shomti?" The fox wiped his face of any emotions and rolled over, setting his teeth and closing his eyes where Diospyros couldn't see as memories of Neyla rolled through his head.

"...Nothing." A pause, then the scraping sound of Diospyros carving out a shaft for Shomti's scythe continued. It was still going when Shomti jolted awake after a hard throb from his hand. Diospyros was looking at him intensely as he worked, but other than the sound of his knife on the hunk of dalbergia melanoxylon, nearly done now, there was not one noise to break the silence for several minutes, long enough that Shomti actually suspected it wasn't forthcoming. Then the wolf's voice breached the gap between the two and Shomti was surprisingly glad that it did.

"Did you have a nightmare, Shomti?" The vulpine was forced to nod tacitly. "...Do you want to talk about it?" Another nod, and a sigh as he pushed himself upright, leaving his shirt-pillow to crawl up to Diospyros and rest his head on the wolf's shoulder. He wasn't sure how long it was that he cried, but he realized all he had ever wanted since the nightmares started was someone to cry with. He couldn't do it by himself, and up until now he had nobody who would just sit and listen. But that was just what Diospyros did. No, he did more than that. He made it all better. The wolf hugged Shomti to his chest, and Caliga whispered in the fox's ear what he would have wanted to hear. "Don't worry, it's alright now... it was only a dream... you're safe, you're safe..."

It felt like both long hours and mere seconds before Shomti lifted his sodden face from Diospyros's shoulder, soaked now with his tears, but it seemed that he didn't mind his younger friend had gotten him all wet. Despite the tears no longer flowing, Shomti's breath still came in shuddering gasps and he wished for nothing more than to crawl into Diospyros's lap. He vocalized this in a weak whimper, and when Diospyros nodded with infinite patience and surprisingly romantic care, he slowly made his way up onto the very large wolf, who had set aside the scythe handle and knife to hug him but was still littered with wood chips.

"Shh... it's okay, Shomti..." Caliga whispered softly, hugging the fox to his chest and petting him softly. "Do you feel a little better...?" A weak nod came in response, and Caliga continued petting the bare-chested boy comfortingly. It was past dawn, and the door started to creak open, but it quickly closed. Shomti didn't even notice, and Caliga paid it no mind. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong now?... I'll listen..."

Shomti nodded, and—slowly at first—began to describe the way the dream had started recurring since he was scarred. Then he went into the details. Cold metal for a body, burning like ice... it was truly horrific what he went through, and Caliga found himself shivering at times with the descriptions that Shomti gave. Given the nature of his Sight, whenever something particularly vivid came up in the vulpine's narration, it appeared before him and he had to try his best to ignore it.

"I... woke up when my hand started hurting. It's only just now gotten back to its normal throbbing instead of what it is after a dream." Then he buried his head in Diospyros's chestfur. "Please, really, I... don't want anybody knowing about it... don't tell anyone... please..." A little sniffle, and he looked up pathetically at the wolf. Here was the fox that killed so viciously, here was the fox that brought Jean Bison his long-overdue death, here was the fox that had no heart but the one beating in his pocket, and he was crying in Caliga's arms over something he hadn't told anybody else.

"Don't worry about it, foxie..." He paused, expecting Shomti to complain. But he didn't even seem to notice, and in fact Caliga had just let it slip. He had meant to call Shomti by his proper name. "I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to... I can see why you wouldn't want anybody to know what you went through. I'm so sorry for you... nobody should have to endure what you have..." He took a deep breath, mustered up his courage, and kissed Shomti on the forehead.

Shomti didn't even flinch. In fact, he looked up into Diospyros's eyes, and put one gentle finger on the top of his muzzle, then pushed down slightly until their noses were lined up, lips almost touching. When Diospyros didn't move forward to kiss him, as his eyes—even blind—obviously showed he wanted to, Shomti leaned up and gave him—a man, for one, and someone he knew was older than him even though he didn't know his own age—a soft, romantic kiss. When he was content to let it stop, however, he felt a paw on the back of his head encouraging him to keep it going... and he felt Diospyros's tongue inside his mouth. But he didn't even care... he just kept kissing. Better than Neyla had ever been, because it had always been contrived with her... and with him, it just happened.

Once Diospyros did let him go, Shomti noticed his eyes were closed and left them that way for a second in dazed wonder, then fluttered them open. "Diospyros, I..." Then a soft, furry finger on his lips stopped him from finishing.

"Don't think about it... just, thank you, for the best kiss I can remember." Shomti smiled to himself and to Diospyros, burying his head in the wolf's chest once more and staying like that for so long Caliga wondered if he should pick up the blackwood and work on it while holding Shomti. But he decided against it, and focused on the fox in his arms.

Soon, when Shomti was again emotionally stable—despite the occasional guilty glance up at Diospyros—they politely accepted an offer of breakfast, didn't eat much since each was thinking of the other, and left just like that. The walking was silent for a while. Shomti was trying to work out if he loved Diospyros or Neyla or both, while Diospyros was working out whether he could love Shomti and his mystery wolf or would have to choose between the two of them. Eventually, when neither reached a conclusion, Shomti made the first move.

"D-diospyros..." Caliga looked over and slightly down at him expectantly, and quickly realized this was a bad move as Shomti's ears lowered and he almost instantly regretted talking at all. "I... I don't know what to do. I'm so used to having all the answers and now I have none... I can't even tell how I feel, let alone you... and there's... Neyla, and... I don't know what to do, Diospyros..." He sighed and looked up at him, pitiful eyes shiny with tears. "I want to ask you, straightforward, and get an answer... but I don't even have one for you if I do. I can't do that." They'd stopped, by some mutual, wordless consensus. "But... w-what do you think I should do?" Caliga sighed and looked up at the sky, enjoying the silent thunderclaps up there. The black and red clouds were long gone, but he hoped very much they'd never parted. When he did finally answer, it was so quiet Shomti had to ask him to repeat it.

"...Nothing. Let's just... see what happens. Alright, Shomti?" The vulpine blushed and looked down at the snow by his feet. "Something the matter?"

"C-can you call me... at least, when we're alone like this... can you c-call me what you did back there? I... think I like that better, honestly..." Caliga beamed kindly and patted Shomti on the head, bending down to get to his level. It wasn't that big a difference—a few inches—but it did wonders to make him seem approachable again.

"Of course, little foxie... that's fine by me. You are, after all, little and foxy." Shomti smiled and playfully punched Diospyros, who laughed. "Alright, not that little, but you are quite the beautiful fox if you don't mind my saying so." The newly nicknamed foxie blushed, and grabbed Diospyros's arm instinctively. Caliga grinned and let the teenager cling on him; it felt... nice. Somehow it only now clicked that he wasn't young enough to do that, no matter the age difference between himself and his partner, and he had to be like that wolf from ten years ago. Shomti... might end up as his responsibility. And he would have to make him happy, protect him, be the one cuddled into instead of the one cuddling. If it always felt like this, of course, he could manage that. Caliga was so buried in his thoughts that when Shomti said something softly, he almost didn't catch it. "What was that, foxie?"

"I said you're warm." Caliga noticed that Shomti's right hand was relaxed on his arm, but his left was pressing hard against his back, as though to try and leach out some of the heat buried beneath his fur. It felt warm enough against his back, warmer than the hand on his arm even, so why was Shomti trying to heat it up...?

"Foxie... your left hand... does it feel alright...?" Shomti started to nod, then sighed and looked down, disengaging from the wolf and looking down.

"No. No, it doesn't... but it's always like this now. I'm sorry, Diospryos, I won't..." The wolf shushed him with a finger and grabbed his hand as gently as he could. Despite the tenderness of his touch, Shomti winced before he could catch himself, then stared up at Diospryos boring holes in the back of his hand with his blind eyes. "D-diospyros...?"

"Oh, gods... this... Clockwerk did this to you?" His eyes were blank, yes, but the emotion in his face was intense as he looked into his foxie's eyes. A stunned, silent nod, and Diospyros cursed under his breath. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry for what you've gone through... what you are going through... and what you will go through." A deep breath, and he stared the scared little fox in the face. "Shomti, this... curse... isn't going away anytime soon. There's nothing I can do to help it, not even summoning something stronger than myself, because... it's tied to Clockwerk's life."

"Clockwerk is dead... right?" Shomti was returning slowly to his normal state, the dark killer that had murdered now over three hundred men and—occasionally—women. No more cute little foxie as they started to talk about his pain.

"No. No, he isn't. He's alive and well. Just... He must be sleeping. Or on standby, since his brain is just a computer." Caliga had to sigh and hug Shomti to his chest. "There's more for me to tell you, but... later, okay?" There was a long pause as the two stood there, Shomti's head resting against Diospyros's strong chest, then he let out a shaky breath.

"Diospyros, I don't want you to tell me. What I know is enough for now... more than enough. Let's just go... I want to get out of here as soon as I can." He peeled away in a few more seconds and held Diospyros's hand tightly. Since he was walking on the right of the pair, it was his left in the wolf's paw... shortly, due to the pain, he extricated it and switched sides. "Sorry..."

"Foxie, don't worry about it." Shomti smiled up at Diospyros, and rested his head on the large wolf's shoulder as they walked. It only took a bit of reflecting on the way the two seemed made for each other before a happy tear ran down his face. Caliga, of course, noticed immediately—he was somehow very good about things like that—and wiped the salty drip away with one finger. "What's up...?" With a blissful smile, Shomti looked up and pecked Diospyros on the cheek.

"...Nothing."

Yay!! Aren't they such an awesome couple? Anyway, the next chapter is going to be EXTRA yaoitastic. I MAAAY stretch the boundaries of "T" but don't count on it. I will NOT be forced to change the rating on my story or move it to the double for adult stories. Why, you might ask? ... BECAUSE NOBODY READS STORIES THERE!!! Why publish if nobody'll read it? :P In any case, it seems I'm now committed to a sequel. Tell me in your reviews who you want the pairing in the sequel to be between, Shomti/Diospyros, or Shomti/Neyla and Caliga/No-name-wolf. I don't know which one to pick. DX Your votes may or may not influence the outcome. No guarantees. Anyway, who thinks that the kiss was totally epicly written and perfect? :3 I love yaoi... So, yeah. You should know by now that if you're anti-yaoi, you will have no more fun reading this story.


	14. First of Many

Whoo! I'd like to warn everyone that if you haven't noticed yet, there is YAOI in the following material. You don't like it, then piss off and read some straight stories, like all the SlyxCarm stories out there. And I would like to ESPECIALLY warn people about this chapter, because I do sorta stretch the limits of my current story rating, and I really don't want to change it to M since NOBODY READS THOSE. Trust me, I know, because I have an M rated story and it's got... um, either one or two reviews. Sure, it was a one-shot, but it was good and well-written. Anyway, enough of that... there is lots of yaoi in the material below. I think it's cute. If you disagree, then don't read it. Nobody is holding a gun to your head to read my story. Now, that said, I would love to get some reviews on this story. So how about it, my loving fans (if I have any)? It's not that much trouble to review a story after you've read it, right? Two minutes more of your time, after you've devoted at least ten times that amount to reading the story in the first place. So please, be nice and review.

First of Many

Caliga grinned as they stopped in a clearing of pine that surrounded the obscure path they were taking. He'd been whittling away at Shomti's scythe shaft for quite some time, then for the past couple of hours he was—much to Shomti's chagrin—rubbing it with various ever-increasing grits of sandpaper. Now, it seemed, he was done. "I polished it right up to about two thousand grit. Normally I don't even bother with sanding, but this is going to feel like glass beneath your fingers now I've done that." He held it out to Shomti, who took it and admired the heft in the wood. It actually was quite heavy. "That'd sink in water. So... don't drop it in the ocean, or else. Now, it looks kinda pale, that's just because it isn't oiled. Just rub it hard with your shirt, and it'll get nice and dark and glossy." Shomti smiled and did so to a section of the handle, then proceeded to fling his arms around Diospyros.

"It's perfect." Caliga let his foxie nuzzle into him for a little while, a tiny smile creeping onto his lips before he pried the vulpine off him. "So now the obvious question is how to mount the Talons." Shomti picked up the bag, full of the six claws he had pried out of Jean Bison's walking stick, and overturned it to dump them all out on the grass.

"Well, obviously, we need to line them up like so..." And Caliga moved each one in line with the next, so they had the approximate curve of a scythe's blade. "And they have to connect somehow with the shaft. That, I suppose, will be the hard part. So there are eight claws here... and, each one seems to be something like two inches... um..." He paused to scratch his head. "I don't see how Jean Bison managed to mount these on his axe haft, either. They're smooth on the bottom. Maybe..."

Shomti pulled the talons together a little further; Diospyros had left a little space between them, and he wanted to see what would happen if they touched. The surface seemed to ripple, then the back edge of each one extended—the thickness dropping to compensate for lost material—to attach to the top of the last claw. The result? A perfectly smooth plain edge, with semi-sharp scalloping on the spine. There were tiny lines that indicated where one talon started and the next ended, but in all other ways they seemed to be a solid piece of metal.

"...I was about to postulate that exact thing. Why'd you have to beat me to it, foxie?" They both laughed, and Shomti carefully touched the base of the scythe blade onto the very end of his haft, the metal rippling again and the blade thinning as it slid down over the blackwood several inches. The end result was a solid-looking scythe, not particularly embellished at first glance, but exuding power from both the blade's history and the shaft's material. "And now you're a proper Reaper."

"Yeah... wow. It's actually not as light as I thought it would be. That's really nice." Just to test the blade's edge, he swung it at some overhead branches, careful to align the edge so the branches would contact it instead of the shaft, and click-click-click... at his feet were three fair-sized branches of various diameters. The widest appeared to be just over three inches. On the blade, not a single nick. "Now THAT is a sharp weapon. I think I'm going to like this new toy of mine." A dark gleam showed up in his eye, then he paused and looked at the scythe.

"You're just now thinking what I've been wondering about for a good long time."

"How am I going to get on the plane with this scythe?"

"I'm... working on that bit. It shouldn't be a problem as long as we can fit it into the luggage." Around seven days later, they found they could in fact fit it into the luggage, and everything went as planned. The blade was still untouched by blood thus far; nobody resisted the obviously insane fox when he asked for money and waved his scythe. Wrapping the blade in clothing that they bought for the trip before packing it kept it from being suspicious, and so when Shomti was asked a few questions about the weapon in his luggage he just answered that he and his friend Diospyros were knife-maker and woodworker, respectively, and had collaborated on a commission for a scythe by a customer. Seeing as how it was a very, very expensive commission, honoring the customer's ancestral farm, they were delivering it in person. Was that a problem, sir? And of course no it wasn't, they just wanted to make sure that it wasn't intended for use as a weapon. Ah, the ignorance of those faced with a well-constructed lie...

While on the plane, the first thing Caliga did was draw the curtains and reach his arm around Shomti's shoulders. He responded by murring softly and resting his head on the wolf's chest. Faced with this adorable action by Shomti, Caliga couldn't help but smile too and lift his foxie out of his seat—this elicited a quiet meep of surprise from the vulpine—and set him in the wolf's lap, where he proceeded to curl up and nuzzle into Diospyros's chest. Even the cold pain in his hand couldn't subtract from the warmth Diospyros gave him. Not just physical warmth and heat, but that warm, fuzzy feeling that made him feel like his heart was melting. At least one of them, that is...

"Diospyros... this is so perfect, I just want things to stay this way forever..." It was little more than a whisper, but it carried far enough that the wolf could hear his little foxie perfectly. "Promise me it will... I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't be in your arms anymore, if you couldn't hold me, if I couldn't hear you whisper in my ears that it'd be okay... because then it... it wouldn't, not if you couldn't tell me it would. I guess that doesn't make sense..."

"No. No, it makes perfect sense... and I will. As long as you need me, as long as you want me, I'll be here for you. To do all those things... okay?" Shomti nodded silently, burying his head in Diospyros's chest and purring softly. Caliga felt his head through his shirt even though he couldn't see his shirt... he wished that it wasn't there. It was nice to feel Shomti against his bare chest, nothing but fur the torsos of either one.

During the flight, much more cuddling ensued, but they had to disentangle when they landed in the States. Shomti picked up his luggage, they were confronted by police who had apparently been contacted by the customer's they mugged, and they consequently were forced to make a scene. Both Shomti and Diospyros had dealt with guns before, and while tasers were new they weren't a problem as they were even easier to avoid. Mace, meanwhile, wasn't a problem for either. Shomti saw it only as a diversion to his normal pain, and Caliga removed the pain by mentally channeling it into another receptacle: the officer that had used the Mace. It was fortunate for the officers that the two were incapable of taking out any of their weapons, so Shomti ended up fighting with his hands and feet, and Diospyros with his olivewood cane that he used to See.

"Now, everyone in the airport, please direct your attention to the unconscious police officers. You will of course note that their guns are loaded and chambered," Shomti shouted loudly, hoisting his single bag of luggage with one hand. "And their tasers have been discharged. Not to mention that both I and my friend here are covered in Mace right about now. They were unable to USE their guns, and missed with their tasers, Mace had no effect, and despite hand-to-hand training we rendered them unconscious without the use of major weapons on our part. My friend and I just want to get out of here, but," He unzipped his luggage and removed his scythe, sliding the shirt covering the blade off, "We are prepared to use LETHAL force against anyone who having now been warned tries to stop us leaving ANYWAY. That clear to all you?" A pause for anyone to object, and Shomti nodded when none did. "In that case, don't mess with us, and we won't mess with you. Have a nice day, and if you're taking a plane out instead of going home from one then have a nice trip too." Needless to say, with a monologue like that the two weren't given any trouble. The shuttle took them to a hotel, and they stayed the night there to relax. This is where I reenter the narrative, long-form story rather than the between sections short-form story.

"Diospyros...?" Shomti glanced about the room even when they entered, and noticed one thing that given the wolf's nature he'd decide on quickly. Shomti wanted to preempt him there. "I... I know there are two beds, but..."

"I understand. It isn't a problem. If you want, we can sleep in the same bed." Shomti nodded, glad to get that out of the way. Next problem, one that Caliga noticed... "The police will be coming around. I'll have to do something to prevent them knowing we're here. So... I'm going to have to call on that spirit you saw back at the Cooper Gang's hideout." Reaching out, he touched Shomti gently on the eyelids and changed the fox's vision to his own. "There. Now you'll be able to see him."

_You called?_ A vortex of invisible but visible energy swirled through the dark hotel room, and a being of indeterminate species appeared in the middle of it, fading in as it faded away. "What's the matter this time?"

"Police are going to want to search the hotels in this area, because of a stunt we pulled at the airport. I want you to keep them from doing it. Car crashes, robberies, murders, however you need to, keep them away from this hotel in particular until we're gone." The spirit nodded and raised a mischievous eyebrow.

"Well, I'll see what I can do... you mind if innocent people die?" Caliga glanced at Shomti. He shook his head. Caliga followed suit. "Perfect. No cop is going to find you, I promise that. Now THIS is the kind of job I'd expect from you, little wolfie." As the spirit gathered a wind to make his dramatic exit, Caliga raised a hand to ask it one more question.

"The mirror. I want you to tell me where it is. On the taxi ride over, I saw that the old museum was demolished." The spirit raised his eyebrow once more, then cackled to himself and pointed a single finger.

"You'll know the house when you see it, little wolfie. Biig. Can't pinpoint the location inside the house; that's going to be a job for you." Caliga nodded and the spirit disappeared. Shomti grabbed Diospyros's hand and dragged him over to a bed, kissing him as they went.

"Mrrr... well, "little wolfie," how do you feel now that you're this close to your mirror and your mystery wolf?" Caliga grinned and gave his foxie another kiss, pulling him close to his body and murring softly at the warmth Shomti's form provided.

"That ought to answer your question... as for little, just remember who you're talking to, foxie. If I'm little you must be tiny. Hehe..." One more kiss, and the two pulled each other close. That's where Caliga decided to stop it, before it got out of hand, and he gently touched each of Shomti's eyelids to restore his normal sight, but also to mentally imply to the fox that it was time to go to sleep. His efforts were met with a yawn, and that elicited a like reaction from his own body. "Is YAAWWWNN someone tired, little foxie? We had better get to sleep, I suppose; tomorrow is a big deal for the both of us. You ever pulled something off without the Cooper Gang to tell you how to do it?" Shomti shook his vulpine head sleepily. "Well, you're going to enjoy how I do things. Night-night, foxie..." Shomti nodded and buried his head in Diospyros's shoulder, his eyes closed. He wasn't really as vulnerable as it seemed; the mental suggestion of sleep was noticed, and diluted before accepting it. He was drowsy, but nowhere near sleep just yet. Because of that, he heard what Diospyros held back for a few minutes to make sure the fox was asleep. "I love you, Shomti... sleep tight..." It was the first of many times that Shomti would hear those words from Caliga's lips, but he of course didn't know that. He leaned his head up and opened one eye sneakily as his lips found their way to Diospyros's ear.

"I love you too, Diospryos..." A tiny chuckle on Diospryos's part, and he squeezed the fox to his chest. "Sorry 'bout that... I didn't know you wanted me asleep so you could say something without me hearing. I thought you just didn't wanna have sex... and I wouldn't have let you anyway. So nyaah." He said, tired but managing a couple of laughs here and there.

"You... YAAAWWN... you cheated, foxie... but I'm glad you love me... it... it clears things up for me." And so, at that point, both genuinely tired and both having confessed their love, they fell asleep in each others' arms for the first of many times to come.

The next morning they woke up, first Shomti and then a few minutes later Caliga. Shomti having been first, he just smiled and burrowed into Diospyros's shoulder, murring to himself and sighing as he realized it wasn't, in fact, a dream. Now what was his dream...? Was it that he woke up and it was all a dream? Maybe... but in that case, how did he know he wasn't dreaming right now? It didn't feel like a dream, with Diospyros holding him so lovingly, but... didn't dreams always seem to be reality until you woke up? Well, whatever. "If this is a dream, I'm going to love him while I can..." Diospyros peeked one eye open, and chuckled as Shomti jumped in his arms and blushed wildly.

"Isn't that how you check if it's a dream...? Get someone to pinch you?" Shomti, now wide awake, mock-glared at Diospyros and wriggled out of bed to go get changed. "Aw, come on, foxie... not like you didn't enjoy it."

"You're supposed to pinch, not grab, and it's supposed to be the arm or side or something, not their ass." Shomti said, tail fluffing up. "Be good, or you might wake up one day with permanent marker on your face and you won't even know it." Caliga grinned and laughed as he too got out of bed and watched Shomti pick up some clothes to change into, then head for the bathroom.

"Foxie, you already look naked to me. What difference will changing in there make? I can See through walls too, you know." Shomti stuck out his tongue and stepped into the bathroom anyway.

"It isn't that you can see me. It's that I can see you." And with that, he shut the door. With that, however, Caliga got an idea of his own, and started to change outside. That is, started, but didn't finish. He just undressed; always a problem, since he had to feel for all the zippers and buttons and things. He couldn't See clothing very well. When Shomti came out and glanced around the room, then found Caliga wearing nothing but his fur, he widened his eyes, tried his best not to stare, and ducked back into the bathroom. "You... you jerk! Put some clothes on, Diospyros!" Caliga chuckled and felt around the room for his clothing. The smile and chuckle disappeared quickly, however, when he realized he couldn't find the set of clothing that he laid out for himself.

"Uhhh... Shomti, love...? I'm... I'm gonna need your help here." The pitiful tone in his voice caused the fox to poke his head out. "I can't find my clothes." It was so... unusual. A big, strong wolf, wrapped from the waist down in blanket to cover himself, mewling like a kitten that he needed Shomti's help... to find his clothes. "Hey! It isn't funny!" Shomti couldn't help but keep laughing under his breath as he reached into the suitcase Diospyros brought and picked out some clothes for him. Red plaid boxers, jeans, and a nice shirt that Shomti thought would look rather fetching on the muscular wolf. It was, after all, very, very tight. He set them down and waited for Diospyros to bend over before... SMACK! "Hey!"

"Turnabout is fair play, love!" And so he ran and locked himself in the bathroom again.

Eventually, they did get the clothing sorted out, and Shomti grabbed his scythe, Diospyros his cane—this one was aromatic red cedar, good for gathering information—and headed out on recon duty. Of course whenever they could get away with it and nobody was looking, Diospyros dragged Shomti into an alley, pinned him against the wall, and kissed him passionately, followed by a soft whisper of "I love you, Shomti..." and a response "I love you too, Diospyros..." from the fox, another kiss or two, and then they'd be back on the street again and walking. Sure enough, the building was hard enough to miss, and Shomti walked around its perimeter one way, to meet Diospyros on the other side.

Neither found a weak spot in the fence that would allow them to climb, or that wasn't covered by cameras. "This might be a problem, Diospyros." Caliga nodded, and narrowed his eyes at the mansion.

"Well... my guess is that they'll go to the local police with reports of intruders. If not that, then the local mafia. Depends on the nature of the intrusion, most likely. The two of us getting in will probably go to the police, then when only you can be positively identified, and even then as just an unknown that somehow appeared one day and is only known as being part of the Cooper gang, they'll send in to the mafia. I'll be identified at that point, since I've had dealings with the black market in lots of places, but again only as an unknown that has no permanent residence, and it'll be my alias Melanoxylon they use to search for me. We signed into the hotel under the name Diospyros, so we'll be fine in that respect. Next hotel we go to is the same plan. Foxie, for the next few days your name is going to be Volpa, so use that one whenever it's going on record or we're near a cop. Now..." He frowned and looked at the fence before them. "We can't be found except as the two that put on a scene in the airport. So go ahead and slice through those bars with your scythe." Shomti did as he asked, and swung his scythe low, then high to create a rectangular doorway. The blade cleaved cleanly through the steel with only the slightest resistance, and a metallic ringing from the bars rose through the mostly quiet city air.

For a moment, the two waited as if for an alarm to go off, then they stepped inside, Caliga with his cane probing the entire mansion. There had been a bubble of sorts around it, obviously cast to keep unfriendly eyes out, but within the grounds the wolf found it fairly easy to look mentally into most of the rooms. There were two or three in specific that were blocked from his Sight, and he pointed them out to Shomti.

"There, there, and there, I can See more barriers. Because the mirror isn't visible to me from here, it has to be in one of those rooms. We've got to hit hard and fast, while they're still gathering information on us and think that the Cooper Gang is still doing recon. I've gotten all the information I need, the floor plans shouldn't be so hard to get—some favors here and there—and we'll be able to strike this place tomorrow evening." As he was talking, Shomti swerved his head from side to side, scythe at the ready. He had no paranormal ability to detect people getting closer, but it was quite easy to assume that with such a closely guarded mansion, someone was going to hear their less-than-silent entry. The fox proved to be right, and a German Shepherd with a small revolver stepped out from around a nearby bush. Very nearby.

"Freeze! Put your hands in the air, drop your weapons!" Caliga turned towards him, Shomti raised an eyebrow, and waited for the inevitable moment. The guard turned his head just slightly to talk into his lapel mic... "I've got two intruders—Whoa!"

_Swoosh._

A tiny metallic twang sounded through the garden as Shomti's scythe blade sliced cleanly through the dog's neck, whose arms slowly dropped, then his whole body crumpled, and the head still mouthing words neither Shomti nor Caliga understood rolled off the neck, both severed ends spurting blood, becoming only the first of many to fall to Shomti's scythe.

"Hm. That was rather easy." The two turned toward where they knew a surveillance camera was watching their every move, then both flipped up their middle fingers and walked out the same way they'd come in. There wasn't much of a problem getting back to the hotel—Caliga's spirit prevented any police officers happening upon the pair, by way of strategically placed traffic accidents and the like—and once they were there Shomti looked at the time. "Ah, yes, the ubiquitous wait. Sitting around... doing nothing... seeing nothing... ugh."

"Well... I've got some favors to call in. Just a stop by the library for a few emails, and then several in-person visits. You can come with me for the meetings, if you want... after all, a lovingly obedient assassin is a wonderful way to dissuade any thoughts of taking me out. It HAS happened in the past that I had to activate my wards during one of these meetings, and I'd rather leave that sort of thing to the spirit I summoned for ethereal support. At least, this time, I would." Shomti grinned and latched onto Diospyros's arm, nuzzling into his love's neck.

"I'll be glad to, Melanoxy... Mexanolyx... Melaxonylanolon... um..." Caliga laughed lightly.

"Melanoxylon, love. If you have a problem with saying that one, just... how about Melany? It'll make you look more like the atypical—and therefore typical—cute but evil type." Shomti nodded.

"Okies, Melany. Hehe." Shomti murred and kissed Diospyros on the cheek. "I love you, Diospyros..." Caliga wrapped his arms around the fox and tugged him closer straight into a passionate kiss. Once they pulled apart, he leaned down and whispered in his love's ear.

"I love you too, foxie..." There were episodes like this every few minutes on their way up to the library, a couple while Shomti sat on Diospyros's lap in front of the computer and pawed gently at his love's chest as the wolf emailed someone he knew from the black market, and then even more as they left.

"It's dark, love. Do you think they're going to show up?" Diospyros nodded silently, but he tightened his grip on his cane anyway. In his pocket was a small piece of red cedar wood, and he was constantly scanning the area around the warehouse for ambushes. Just then, a group of four or five faded into view just outside the warehouse door. He scrutinized their appearance, checking for hidden guns or knives, and when they knocked he called out that they could enter. Their weapons were only defensive; a good precaution, as other gangs had occasionally impersonated the mystery wolf.

"I thought you worked alone, Melanoxylon. Who's she? Your bitch?" Shomti picked up his scythe and snarled, but when Diospyros put a hand on his chest he set it down and smiled instantly, nuzzling into the wolf. "Man, you sure got her trained good."

"He," Melanoxylon emphasized the word, "Is my bodyguard, and as you may have guessed is quite fond of me. Introduce yourself, foxie." Shomti nodded and picked up his scythe, resting it on one shoulder.

"Call me Shomti. One more crack about being a bitch, and I might have to hurt you. Unless Melany says I'm not allowed to... heehee!" He added a little giggle, and Melanoxylon rolled his eyes, a hand on the fox's shoulder.

"That's enough, Shomti. Needless to say, gentlemen, I would not feel secure with my usual precautions at this juncture. Hence Shomti here. So if any of you try using those Desert Eagles I see tucked under your coats, then you'll get to see just why I picked him to guard me out of all the others available for hire. Now then, shall we get to business?" All four nodded, and Melanoxylon grinned. "Alright. In that case, I've got all my ends of the deal, and as a bonus I'll let you live through this meeting. Give me what I asked for." Each pulled out a yellow envelope, which Melanoxylon collected, and he nodded once he had all four. Volpa walked with a very, very prominent hip-sway between Melanoxylon and the gangsters, swinging his scythe in long, slow circles before catching it and turning to face them.

"We're just gonna give Melany enough time to open them and check to see that you got him all he asked for, m'kay? Heehee... and if any of you didn't, then," He drew one finger over his throat, "_Schnickkk._ I get to have lots of fun with you." The group fidgeted, but Melanoxylon soon finished looking through each envelope, and had pulled out his own four envelopes, black.

"Here is what I promised. You'll find that the name of the recipient is on each one. I don't want to see anyone move until I'm out of this warehouse, alright? Shomti here is going to enforce that." And Melanoxylon walked out, Shomti waving and calling that he'd see him later.

"Heehee. Alright, you four, wait right there for a couple minutes, then you can go. Ah-ahh, get that hand away from there." Shomti moved blisteringly quick and whipped his scythe through the air, stopping just shy of the dog's neck, who moved his paw back to fore, empty.

"I was just going to get a cigarette. Can't a guy have a smoke?" Shomti giggled once more and shook his head, plopping down on his tail end. This, it seemed, was the opportunity they had all been waiting for, and every single one went for their guns. Probably going to hold Shomti with a gun to his head, email Melanoxylon and tell him the situation, and then bring both of them in to the owner of that mansion.

It didn't work out that way. Shomti had known if they were going to make a move, it would be then, and he quickly twisted and rolled away from where they expected him to be, then while they were still adjusting their aim he took hold of his scythe from the very base with one hand and swung twice, once low—taking out their ankles all at once—and once straight downward, burying the blade through the cat's back and part of the way into the cement flooring.

"My, my, and he was so generous to you, too... oh, well. Melany, you can come back in! I got them." The door creaked open, and the tall wolf strode in, picked up the four black envelopes, and tucked them into his jacket pocket. "What should I do with the other three, love?"

"Mm... kill them, I think. The mob won't miss them, and I've got dozens more favors with others. It's too bad this had to happen, gentlemen. I really did have my ends of the bargain for you. Well, whatever..." Shomti whipped his scythe blade around and down, severing the three still-living heads in one swift move.

"Byebye..." And the two walked out, avoiding the ever-growing pool of blood as they walked out of the warehouse into the night. Three out of four meetings had ended with the group doing as told and just collecting what they needed. Three out of four had lived. This last one, though... never try to cross Melanoxylon, that was the message. Melanoxylon and Shomti... even as they headed back to the hotel, news reached the owner of the mansion of their names, appearances, and skill.

"Mrr... Diospyros, I love you... I love you so much..." Caliga kissed Shomti on the forehead and wiped away a tiny bit of blood on Shomti's chest with a shirt. "Do you love me too...?"

"Yes, Shomti... I love you more than you can ever imagine... sounds impossible, but it's true, I really do love you..." Shomti purred and buried his head in the wolf's chest, grabbing the TV remote and shutting it off along with the lamp by the bed. "Sleepy already...?"

"No..." Shomti gently nibbled on Diospyros's neck, and the wolf got the picture. "Do you mind if...?"

"Not at all." For both it was their first, but only the first of many. Shomti awoke the next morning in Diospyros's arms, and Caliga awoke with Shomti in his, and they both leaned in for a kiss with their lover.

YAY!! Shomti and Caliga aren't virgins anymore! *blink, blink* Yeah, I went there. But I didn't go into any detail, so there, it's okay to include. If anybody WANTS an in-detail version of the events at that night, message me and ask really nicely and I might decide to write one. I've written things like that before. So, anyway, if you want to read about Shomti's first time with Diospyros, and Caliga's first time with Shomti, and such, then I might be persuaded to write it up if I'm messaged. ...Maybe. This isn't like that sequel deal, this is just a maybe. I sometimes start things that I don't finish, and those types of stories are often victims of this habit in me. Now if you'll excuse me I have a planet to conquer. See you when I have the next chapter done. And yes, the story is reaching a culmination. I think it's only got... hmm... fifteen to twenty thousand words left in it. Maybe a little more, probably not a little less. It's sad to think that it'll be over, but things like that happen.


	15. Hunt

In which the two lovers get back the mirror. Yayz.

Hunt

There were a few more clinks that escaped the gate, then Shomti slipped through, followed by Diospyros. A spotlight flicked on, but they were gone already and all it saw was their entry point. It swerved through the garden and lawn, eventually clicking off to let the intercom take over. "_We have possible intruders on the grounds, number unknown. Be on the alert. Sweep grounds with the dogs ASAP."_ Not a problem, since Shomti had already reached the door. His scythe made quick work of the deadbolt and he opened it silently, scanning the room inside. It was pitch-dark, no chance anybody could see him, but while Diospyros had his Sight, Shomti had his own entirely different... if one were to be able to see his eyes, they would note that they'd completely dilated, no iris left at all. If there was one thing that he'd learned from the Thievius Raccoonus, it was how to see in total darkness. Thank you, Wraith...

The two split up and headed through the two doors in that room. They'd studied the floorplans, one of the things Diospyros had gotten through his persona of Melanoxylon, and they were simply combing the mansion. Since the intruders were thought to be outside still, there were few guards, and any that crossed Shomti were dispatched quickly and quietly. None crossed Diospyros thanks to his meddling. First floor, they both knew there were no "guarded" rooms that they had to check. Second floor, there were two, and then they'd meet in front of the third on the top floor to report their results and—if necessary—search through the third room as well. According to the floor plan, the third room was the master bedroom, and so it was pretty probable it'd be in there.

Shomti snuck through the dark, totally at home and invisible in the night-time gloom, then silently slipped his scythe around a dog's neck and tugged. There was a dull thud as the body landed in two pieces, but he'd already moved on. He slunk up the stairs, a fox in the night with gleaming yellow eyes, and glided past doors he knew he didn't need to check. Then one, rather more ornate than the others, and he noted that there was light shining from the edges of it. To his current heightened sight, it seemed almost unbearable, so he shifted his eyes back to a more normal setting and creaked the door open.

"I've been expecting you. You or Melanoxylon. Shomti, is it?" The fox warily padded through the room, his eyes glancing about. "Oh, you won't find what you want in here. But you can't get out just yet. See," The sole inhabitant of the room stood up and smiled, civility masking his malevolence. "I've been waiting a while now for Melanoxylon to show up and claim that mirror. I'm afraid he can't have it."

"He won't be stopped so easily." Shomti turned now to face the snow leopard, dressed rather richly and just setting down a book he'd been glancing over before Shomti entered. The fox had already checked the doors, they were reinforced steel with much larger than standard deadbolts. The fence posts had been hollow, and the earlier deadbolt easily a fifth or sixth the size of this one. Odds were against him if he tried to just slice his way through. "I want you to let me out. And you've got until the count of five to do that. One. Two. Three. Four."

"Please, do be more civil. I just want to make sure you know what you're doing here, my friend." The snow leopard stood, brushed himself off, and looked in Shomti's eyes. "Your lover is safe."

"Five." But Shomti didn't swing like he normally would have; that last sentence, reassurance, from someone who couldn't possibly have any knowledge of their relationship, let alone the status thereof. "Alright. Fine, so tell me then."

"You are uprooting yourself. You're removing Shomti the fox from the heart of the one he loves. Shomti, you are helping to find your own replacement." The vulpine shook his head confusedly. "What do you think about the mirror, hm? I assume you know what it did for him. What it did to him, some might say. And who he met...?" The pieces started to fall together.

"Shut up."

"He fell in love with whoever he saw, and he's never fallen out of it."

"I don't want to hear this."

"And you are just a distraction to him. Someone he can use to get back the one he really wants, and to keep him occupied in the meantime."

"Don't say that."

"You are NOTHING to Melanoxylon!"

"I said SHUT UP!"

_Schlick._

There was a clicking sound as his scythe struck and sliced through one of the leopard's bones, and then the body fell, a smile still on its face. It was almost as if it were laughing with its last few seconds to live. The blood pooled, marred the body's crisp white fur, and Shomti opened the now-unlocked door.

"He was lying. He was lying. He had to be lying. That isn't true, he loves me, I know he does, he proved it, he's lying, he loves me, he's a LIAR." Shomti closed his eyes, knuckles gripping his scythe as he shook with rage and grief. A pang in his hand, complaining that he was using it too roughly, caused him to jerk his eyes open, crimson red light pouring out of them. "GODDAMMIT!!" Shomti swung the weapon at the nearest thing and cleaved straight through and into the floor. "Why does it have to be me, why does it always have to be ME?! It isn't FAIR!!" And he slammed his fist into the wall, happening upon a pine wallstud beneath the drywall. There was a sickening crunch, but it was the wood that had splintered and buckled. His hand was as good as ever. "I... just wanted someone... Just someone to be there... someone who wouldn't do this to me... why can't I have that...? Why can everyone else have somebody that loves them and not me...? I don't want to be alone... I don't want to be alone!! It isn't fair!" Another swing of the scythe, and he headed for the stairs, tears streaming down his face. By now guards had started heading straight for the noise, but any that caught him quickly regretted it before being unable to regret anything anymore, ever.

It was mere seconds—about twenty or so—before he arrived at the designated rendezvous, face soaked with tears. It took Caliga a couple more seconds to register what happened.

"Shomti, I didn't—Sh-shomti...?" The fox narrowed his eyes with a snarl, then turned and kicked the wall angrily, a burst of red light shooting from his eyes. "A-are you alright, foxie, love?"

"SHUT UP! It's not fair...! I don't want your nicknames, your "I love you"s or your "It'll be alright"s, okay?! Just shut up!" Caliga winced at the harsh sound, and when Shomti sank to the ground, sobbing softly, he hesitantly approached and scooped his lover up off the floor.

"What are you talking about, love...? What's the matter...? Talk to me, talk to me..." The fox whimpered and buried his face in Diospyros's shoulder, claws and fingers digging into the black wolf's back as he pulled himself closer. "Tell me what's wrong, love..."

"H-he told me things... snow leopard... rich... he... he..." Shomti took a deep gulp of air and stared pathetically up into Diospyros's eyes, tears leaking out his own. "Y-you don't... want to replace me, do you...? I'm not... I... am I good enough for you, do you really love me...?" Caliga stared down at the foxie in his arms, shocked by the words voiced by the one who had proven his love through actions and words both. But... looking back, what had Caliga—no, what had Diospyros done for the foxie he said he loved? "I... I don't want to believe it... I'm... I'm more than just a distraction, right...?"

"Of course you are! Shomti, Shomtishomtishomti... shh... don't worry, baby, I'll never leave you. Nobody could EVER replace you... I.. have to say, the person I'm trying to find, it is because I loved him, but... or... rather I thought I did... I...I don't think I do anymore, not after a taste of this, of real love... Shomti, my beautiful little fox, who gave me everything he had and never asked for anything at all in return, I'm so sorry that I did this for so long..." A shaky breath, synchronized between the two by some unseen force. "You never asked for anything, and I gave you less than you deserved... less than you needed... oh my god, Shomti, I'm so sorry..." Shomti shook his head against Diospyros's head.

"Just... tell me you love me, Diospyros." Caliga looked down at Shomti, then around the empty hallway. "Tell me and that's all I need..."

"Not as Diospyros... as... look, Diospyros isn't my real name. I haven't used my real name since... my parents died. My whole family, actually. I... anyway... Shomti, as Caliga... I love you. And I always will." Shomti sniffled and looked up with a weak smile on his lips, giving his lover a little kiss on the nose.

"I love you too... Caliga. I..." He paused, and looked at the door. "We'd better go in there, huh?" Caliga nodded, a bit of a laugh escaping his lips.

"But not yet. You're not going anywhere, little foxie, until I get more of a kiss than that."

Eventually, they did disentangle themselves from each other, and Shomti sliced through the guard. Turned out that the snow leopard was the owner of the mansion, and Shomti had of course killed him. Shomti gazed deep into the mirror, Caliga glanced back at him, wondering if anything like what had happened to himself would happen to the fox, but when his lover just commented on how nice it looked he knew it was a one-time thing that had happened to him and him only.

They picked it up, started to leave, and had to stop several times to let Shomti destroy a guard or two or five. But eventually they did get it out and to a nearby hotel that was one of the things Melanoxylon had wanted from some of his contacts: a place to go with stolen goods that wouldn't ask questions. He'd individually checked each recommended hotel or shelter, and settled on this one for its closeness to the mansion and reliability.

"How many times has this place been searched by the police?"

"Three sixty-two. Never found a thing."

"Big things alright?"

"All the moving is up to you, but if you can get it in and out no problems with me."

"I'm sold, then."

Honestly, the mirror had looked bigger when he was eleven. Perhaps an obvious statement, but he would have sworn that he had corrected for that. Oh, well. It was definitely the same one... he could recognize anything instantly, and this was definitely the mirror he saw ten years ago. A little work with candles and sticks and conversation with the spirit to negotiate the terms of its release—essentially if Caliga ever called on him, even though so far he never had used the same spirit twice, then no fuss and no fight—and soon Caliga was ready to stare into the mirror and find his wolf. "Sorta like looking past the mirror, and through the reflection, and then inside of what you see. Bit of a trick to it, but I'm sure you'll do fine, little wolfie. Hehehe."

Caliga sat crosslegged, and Shomti pecked him on the cheek. "Good luck, love."

"Thanks, but if I'm really lucky I won't need it." Then he stared at the mirror which stood out in the stark blackness of the hotel room, breathing deeply and reaching out with his mind. It wasn't long before his reflection stood up on its own and walked out of the mirror. "H-hi. Ten years ago—"

"I remember." The wolf, suddenly no longer Caliga's reflection but appearing to be into his early thirties now, sat directly across from the wolf whose life he'd changed a decade ago. Then his solemn face stretched into a grin. "You've grown a lot... how much do you remember of our, eheh, fun night?"

"Before we talk about anything, I have someone I want to introduce you to. It... might be a little awkward." The wolf only now seemed to notice Shomti, and Caliga gently touched Shomti on the eyelids, whereupon he could suddenly See both the wolves rather than just the one.

"I see you picked up a new trick. Probably a lot more than that. I would have sworn I saw a high-level spirit in this room just a few minutes ago." Caliga sighed and nodded exasperatedly, motioning to Shomti and letting the fox stammer out his name.

"Right... eh... uh, if you couldn't get that, his name's Shomti. He's my..." Shomti looked at Caliga, heart rising to his throat. "Partner. We love each other. A lot." And suddenly the grin disappeared, back to the solemn and somber face on the older wolf.

"I... suppose that's understandable. Ten long years... not a little kid in the world who wouldn't get lonely..."

"We only just met a little under a month ago. I waited for you. I waited so long and checked every mirror for the wolf that held me and made me laugh and..." He blushed and looked down, suddenly feeling like that little eleven-year-old cub again. "And kissed me."

"Then...?" Shomti stepped forward, joining the pair and sitting right in the middle of Caliga's lap. "Excuse me, you could try to be a little more sensitive. Even if HE couldn't fend off the loneliness, I could, and I'm still trying to get over the fact that the person I love, the little boy that laughed with me and hugged me and kissed me and snuggled with me is with YOU."

"Yeah? I'm sure you could, big strong man you are. Look, I'm not going to be sensitive with you. He waited and waited and waited. He only said he loved me at all within forty-eight hours, okay? After I gave up everything to help him find you again. Literally, everything. You name it, I lost it. Money, friends, my..." He blushed and looked down.

"Your what, little fox? Anything else you'd care to detail that you lost just to help him?"

"Virginity. Gave it to him. Last night. He didn't ask, I did, and there's no other person I'd want to have it. You're gonna sit there and tell me that you didn't do anything with anybody for ten years? Honestly, you have the ROCKS to lie about that in front of me, his BOYFRIEND? After all, HE didn't do anything until me. He told me so and I believe him."

"What, after thirty years, I'm supposed to be a virgin still? After ten long years, was I expected to never touch anybody else? But what I did between now and then wasn't... it had no love in it. It was just a distraction until I got my little cub back. Now I don't have him anymore and I have WASTED ten years of my life waiting for him. You could at least try to understand that I've lost something, something I should have right now." Shomti licked his lips angrily, but Caliga whipped his hand around and over the fox's mouth.

"That's enough. I didn't bring you here to argue with my lover. I just... look, ten years will really screw with your mind, and it's not as though I was really... you know... aware... when all of it happened. What little I have is... almost gone." The older wolf stood up and sneered.

"Then let it go. This is what I get for waiting. This is what I get for loving a little boy, giving him the ability to see me, and giving him all he could ever ask for during the time we had together. This? Ten long years later, he finds me, and wants to talk to me, and get something back. His precious MEMORY of what happened, without even a touch of the thought that he could have it all back, not only memory but the reality of it, if he just left the fox slut he was with right now. Let the memory go. Let it go and watch it fall into the void, just like you did with US." Caliga took a deep breath, looking down at the floor and letting one small tear run down his face.

"Please... say goodbye this time... you owe me that. You owe me that!" The wolf had stepped back into the mirror and was starting to walk off. "I never heard you say goodbye last time and by the fires of Hell if you don't now I'm going to hunt you down like I did this time, even if it takes a thousand decades, and I..." He growled and stood up, the wolf almost gone.

_Goodbye. The price of your precious closure was my heart. Is that worth it?_ The voice could have been his, or it could have been real, but either way the wolf was gone. Caliga sighed and flopped back onto the sheets.

"...He doesn't even know my name, Shomti... not even one of my aliases... I'm just the little cub to him... I'm just that little boy in the museum and that's all to him... fun to be with, tastes good, looks okay, has a nice laugh... he w-wasn't even complaining that he loved me and you couldn't have me, he... just... wanted the ten years back, he never once told me he loved me... just the little cub he gave the Sight and a couple of kisses to years ago... h-he doesn't even know my NAME..." Any thoughts of a nice night together between the two lovers were now gone, and Shomti let Caliga cry on his shoulder for once, and that's where they fell asleep... on the bed, under the covers, Caliga sniffling and Shomti petting him softly even in their slumber. In the morning, Caliga took a deep breath, interrupted by Shomti with a kiss.

"...Feeling better...?"

"I suppose... I don't know how I wanted things to go, but... that... wasn't it."

"Everything's going to be okay... Caliga, a really smart person once told me that a stumble here and there is nothing so unusual, and probably not as severe as it always seems at first."

"Yeah... You're right. Well, I'll... I'll be fine, love. Just need some time to get over it." Shomti nodded and let Caliga set his head on the fox's shoulder.

"I love you. No matter what happens, that's always going to be true."

"...I love you too."

Of course I wasn't just going to let the mirror get between the two. They're such a cute couple that I HAD to make it so they'd stay together no matter what and Caliga had no option but Shomti. Now, don't forget, Shomti still has the option of Neyla... I haven't forgotten about her. She's going to play prominently in the next chapter. Yayz! Neyla!


	16. Poison

I went for something different between this chapter and the recent ones. Seems I've focused a lot on having the chapter title be a phrase or word that pops up at important places in the story, so I decided to not even mention the chapter title in this one and just have an intro and outro that used it and explained its meaning to the readers on the obtuse side. I rather like the chapter.

Poison

Poisoning can come from many things, many substances. Toxins, or venoms, or even something so simple as pain. The symptoms of the first two are physical, but the latter poison has effects that are purely in the realm of the mental. It is this poison to which people succumb whenever they commit suicide, and sometimes it is the one that sends them to an asylum. Other times it just gnaws away at their humanity, bit by bit making them less and less of a person, more of a mindless animal, and so it takes them down the road of insanity very, very slowly.

Neyla had been keeping an eye on Shomti for some time now. She knew by this time that he and this... Diospyros... were together. The bloody fox just couldn't help himself, he had to kiss the first thing that moved, didn't he? Did he ever even CARE about Neyla at all? Well... if the answer did happen to be no, what were the odds he truly cared about his wolf? She knew him. Knew him better than Diospyros ever could, after seeing Shomti in just about every state there was to see him in and engaging in a months-long battle with his intellect. How could Diospyros ever even claim to know his beloved fox when he didn't even know how to optimally argue with him, when he never HAD argued with him?

No, Diospyros had to just be a way to pass the time, a manipulation, something other than a real boyfriend. Shomti was just waiting for Neyla. That's right. She peered through her binoculars, and turned around with a snarl when one of her subordinates tapped her on the shoulder.

"Ma'am, I believe that Diospyros is Melanoxylon, a name I'm sure you're familiar with." That one used to be in the world of the local mafia, so he'd actually had dealings with the now-infamous Melanoxylon. "Shall we release this information to the public?"

"No... we're going to let him go through with whatever he wants to do here. A few lives and some money is a small price to pay if we want to find out the bigger picture. It could save hundreds more people." The badger wasn't so certain, but he nodded and returned to the HQ. "Hmm... what are you doing in there, Shomti and Diospyros...?" It was dark. Their curtains were drawn, and the only thing allowing Neyla to see any of them was the lamp throwing their silhouettes onto the hotel curtain. Momentarily, that disappeared as well and she set the dual lensed optics device down with a sigh.

Next morning, she received word that the previous day Melanoxylon—Diospyros—had gathered various bits of information which suggested that he was going to steal something big from the mansion nearby, and that he was seen checking out local shady hotels, suspected by police—and known by the mafia—to harbor criminals after big heists. Again she refused to let anyone stop Diospyros, and just kept an eye on his hotel room the next night. Something big, a painting of some sort perhaps; Diospyros; Shomti. All were there, and she couldn't see anything else. The lights clicked off and she sighed, going back to her HQ to sleep. Either Shomti or Diospyros got what they wanted this time, and if it was Shomti he'd have definitely left Diospyros. So it stood to reason that Diospyros got what he'd wanted from the mansion, and Shomti was waiting for him to help get what HE wanted. Why else would they still be together, after all?

Shomti was allowing Caliga to nuzzle into his shoulder and neck, petting his lover softly, the position reversed from the norm, when his hand started to hurt, his heartbeat rising as the pain went up. The change did not go unnoticed by Caliga, even though Shomti did his best not to change his face.

"Love, are you okay?" Shomti started to say something, winced as an unexpected hard throb interrupted him, then slowly continued.

"My hand... it's hurting really bad... nn... Don't mind me... I'm—" He yelped as he tried to say "I'm fine" and with a quick rustle of covers it was he that was in Caliga's arms. "C-caliga... you don't have to... you're the one that needs support, not me...nnnnn......" He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as it intensified for a few seconds, then he panted when it was gone. "I'll be fine. It always goes away..." Caliga shushed his lover, pulled the fox close, and vowed in his mind to get Clockwerk for what he was doing to his beautiful little foxie.

Thousands of miles away, meanwhile, and several thousand feet up, there was another drama unfolding. Arpeggio, through correspondence with Neyla, had immediately moved to go and collect the three Clockwerk parts that had been being used by Jean Bison in his iron horses. Stomach, lungs, and brain... Now that Arpeggio had those parts, he was ready to start rebuilding Clockwerk. Not only that, but when the Cooper Gang woke up one morning, every single part they had was gone. With all that Arpeggio had, he needed only one more thing to make Clockwerk run once more. He could do quite well without the talons, they were mostly for show on the big owl armed to the teeth with guns and lasers. No, he needed Clockwerk's heart, and it was now the only part missing from the giant frame.

"Splendid, splendid. Neyla, are you there?" A crackly reply emerged from the phone held against Arpeggio's ear by his robot transport.

"Of course. I'm keeping an eye on Shomti right now. He and Diospyros still haven't left their hotel room." Arpeggio made a sound that seemed to imply disinterest. "Yes, eh... anyway, they do still have the Heart with them. But I don't see Shomti bring it anywhere outside, it'll probably still be in the hotel room when they leave. I'll search the room after they've gone."

It was, then, lucky for Shomti and Caliga that when they left that hotel room, it was for good.

"Are you sure you want to do this, love?" Caliga nodded solemnly, then pulled out a lighter, holding it up to the surface of the wooden mirror. It took a little while for the flame to catch, since the wood was so dense and oily, but when it did, it really caught, and the flame burned higher and hotter by the second.

"Let's get out of here." They left, closed the door behind them, and started walking. If they'd looked back, they might have seen Neyla stare in shock as their room caught fire, and that fire spread to the rest of the building. But they didn't, and they stopped somewhere to get food and they ate and laughed and kissed and they were happy. Shomti had to force the pain out of his mind, had to ask Caliga questions like he was certain he should have known the answers to, had to let the wolf order for him because when the waiter asked him what he wanted he didn't know even though Caliga did because he'd told him and he did know but he'd just forgotten. But everything was fine. He was fine. He nuzzled his lover, they stopped for dinner at a romantic restaurant and Caliga treated him to some food he'd never had before, and they spent the night on the street, no less loving with each other for the lack of a comfortable bed, though they did accept that the mood wasn't right to repeat what they'd done two nights before.

Neyla was following them, but even when they slept Shomti had the Heart in his pocket and was in Diospyros's arms, so she couldn't get it. "Arpeggio, this is Neyla. Unexpected setbacks mean I can't get the Heart just yet... I'll leave clues that should bring them to you. I'm sure once they arrive on your blimp we'll have no problem forcing the Heart into your hands." There was an affirmative from the parrot and she flipped her phone closed, sitting and watching the way Shomti nuzzled into Diospyros as the two slept. Was that... just for appearance's sake? Or was it more than that, did the fox actually care for him...

"Of course it's just for appearance. There's no way he could possibly be in love with... with HIM." She muttered to herself, then turned as she heard someone knock on the door. She let them in; it was one of her subordinates.

"Ma'am, should we arrest Shomti and Diospyros now that they are asleep and we have definite proof that they have committed several felonies?" The tigress rolled her eyes exasperatedly, gesturing towards them.

"Be my guest, if you want to get killed. We cannot apprehend them with our current manpower; read the list of casualties from their mansion job, and you'll see what I mean. Send in to Interpol that we need reinforcements, lots of them. Riot control would be nice, but ask very nicely to see if you can get us a couple of paramilitary troops. At least... I'd say five to six. Fully armed with flash and smoke grenades, submachine guns—I've personally always been fond of the UZI, myself—and, if you can, get us an armored troop transport. I get the feeling we'll need it." So the subordinate made the call, received a no of course but did secure riot police before Neyla snatched away the phone and charmed and manipulated and generally deceived to get all the things she wanted and more. A full transport would be arriving in the morning from a local paramilitary service, and it would be quite easy to storm the couple—pair, she reminded herself, not couple, they weren't a couple—by noon.

They were, unfortunately, already on the move by the time the transport arrived, and were already on a plane by noon, thanks to the same plan they'd used last time. They touched down in Colombia, Caliga assuring Shomti that in this country, he was known and feared by anybody with power, whether police or drug dealers. Shomti nodded, and they disembarked. It was a simple matter of a word with security, and Melanoxylon secured their luggage. Another word with another security guard, and they were taken to the manager for a friendly conversation. The obese feline leaned back in his chair, an easy smile on his face when Melanoxylon walked in with his usual olivewood cane and bag of others, and a mysterious fox followed, scythe in one hand and Melanoxylon's arm in the other.

"Ingles, por favor. Mi amigo no habla espanol." Then, with a grin to match the manager's own, he stretched an arm around his lover. "This is Shomti. He's a recently acquired partner; I assume you've followed Interpol's files on him?" The man, when he responded, had a thick but understandable accent.

"Yes, he is most interesting. And here I always heard Melanoxylon, the cold wolf, the heartless wolf, the alone wolf. A partner, I see...? Well, I do not wish to irritate you by inquiring as to the nature of your partnership." Melanoxylon grinned, pulling Shomti up into his lap, the fox nuzzling into his neck.

"Criminal, and romantic. There is no problem with that." It wasn't a question, or even a statement: it was a very apparent warning. "In any case... we need a hotel, away from the slums. For obvious reasons, we both have people after us right now, and there's something I need to do. I need a computer, internet access, and a few nights at a top-level resort alone with my foxie. Now, if I wake up to find anybody with a gun within five hundred yards of me, that isn't ordered specifically to protect me, I'm going to blame it on you. I don't want to have to do that, senor, but you would give me no choice. So I recommend that the hotel be secure and remote. Also, if anyone interrupts Shomti and I... do not blame me if they don't survive. Is all this clear?" The manager nodded, a smile still on his face even though it seemed he had to strain a bit to keep it there.

"Si, si, senor, it is all clear. It, ah, may be a bit costly..." Melanoxylon shrugged. "As I thought. Price, then, is no object with you, senor? I shall require five thousand total, and half should be up front." The wolf pulled out a small wallet and a piece of paper, scrawling out an I.O.U and signing it Melanoxylon.

"Any major drug dealer this side of the world will recognize that signature. I trust that's not a problem for you. Give me two hours, and I'll have your two and a half grand. If not, the total doubles. Fine?"

"Si... si, this is fine. I will send one of my men to the hotel to collect it in two hours. Downstairs you will find a ferret smoking a cigar. The cigar is Cuban. Give him this and he will take you to the hotel; there is, if you were going to ask, a sizable town nearby. I assume that is where you will get your two and a half thousand coins." The cat handed over a small red piece of paper, the address and name of the hotel they were to be staying in scribbled onto it above a signature, presumably the executive's. "I will call ahead to the hotel. The reservation will be made in your name, Melanoxylon." He nodded and tucked the sheet of paper into a pocket before standing, picking up Shomti momentarily just because he could, then set him down.

"Gracias, senor, for your help. You'll get your money." They headed down to the ground floor, left the building, and headed for the car park. The ferret they were looking for was easy enough to spot; it was an uncommon species, and in this part of the world it was less so. "We were told to give you this." The ferret nodded, spoke some Spanish at Melanoxylon which the wolf returned, and led them off to a nice little car. It appeared to be something that, new, was worth between thirty and sixty thousand dollars. Melanoxylon opened the door for Shomti on the right side, and then moved over to the left to get in and tug the fox into his lap. "No seatbelts, love, it doesn't matter in this country."

Shomti seemed to have fallen asleep at some point during the ride, which was no surprise given that his eyes were closed the whole way, as Melanoxylon shook him after what had seemed to be just a few minutes and whispered that they were at the hotel. They got out, thanked the driver, Melanoxylon tipped him a couple of coins, and they headed up the steps to the hotel. No points for guessing which building the hotel was; even taken by itself the outside shouted five-star. Shomti didn't even know they had five-star hotels in Colombia, though now he thought about it there was no reason they shouldn't. Brief bursts of Spanish with the clerk resulted in Melanoxylon receiving a room key.

"Gracias, ah, Antonio." The room, of course, was magnificent. I say room, but needless to say I mean suite. Two levels with bedroom, living room, office, two baths, a small bar stocked with spirits, a kitchen with various foodstuffs, and even a laundry room. Caliga dropped his bag in the middle of the bedroom, flopping onto bed with a grin and a glance at the clock. "Hour and a half to get his money. But the sooner the better... mind if we go out to do a little shopping?" Shomti shook his head and gave his scythe a couple of quick practice swings through the air.

"Not a problem with me. I've been dying to use this again." They walked out of the floral-decorated hotel room, took the elevator down—they were alone, so most of that ride was spent with one's tongue in the other's mouth—and as soon as they were outside, Caliga hoisted Shomti over his shoulder despite protests from the fox, and started running. It wasn't too fast, or too far, but he was panting by the time they arrived at a place he decided was good.

"There. Anybody he sent to protect us is long gone now. Alright then, let's go in and do our stuff." Shomti punched the wolf playfully. "I had to carry you. The run here was two miles."

"Hmph." So the two walked in, and this time it was Shomti that spoke first. Though... that, only after he'd sliced through a refrigeration unit. "I want EVERYONE over here, hands empty and where we can see them. Any sudden moves or weapons and you die, got it?" There was a faint click. Definitely a safety going off. Shomti's keen ears picked it up, identified it, and located it all within a fraction of a second, so he was already moving before the canine pulled out his machine pistol. The butt end of Shomti's scythe slammed hard into the dog's temple, knocking him out, but for good measure Shomti reversed the movement and whipped the blade down to take off his head. "Like I said, sudden moves or weapons, and you die. Everyone, get moving, hands where I can see them!" He now had the dog's machine pistol and was swerving it across the entire group. Caliga had already begun liberating the money from the registers. Another click, and Shomti pointed his gun in the general direction, then sprayed bullets at the offender. "I see some of you don't learn very quickly. Hands up, all of you! Except you. I want you to give me his gun. Hold it by the barrel only and slide it across the floor to me." A few seconds and Shomti now had more bullets than there were individuals in the store; he shortly gave it to Caliga, however, who pointed it at the back of the store and fired off a few bullets at the wolf hiding behind one of the aisles with a gun.

"Hiding from me is not only ineffective, it is suicide..." He muttered, continuing down to the very last register. Nobody else moved, nobody else tried to get a gun out. "Gracias, amigos y amigas." Then the two disappeared through the front door. Nobody in the store moved for a long while, afraid that if they went outside they'd get shot, but the wolf and the fox were long gone when they finally did get the courage to move.

"Shomti...?" Caliga said quietly while they cuddled in their hotel room, waiting for the lackey that would retrieve the airport manager's money. Shomti "Mmm?"'ed in response to indicate he heard. "You're pretty scary when you've got a gun."

"Mmhm..." A pause, and Caliga smiled down at Shomti, who leaned up and gave his lover a little kiss. "I love you..."

"And I love you, too, Shomti..." At about that time, the doorbell rang. Caliga's eyes instantly darted to the clock. "It isn't time yet. And he wouldn't show up early. Get upstairs in the kitchen, I'll get the door. And if I don't say it's alright, DON'T come out. Got it?" Shomti's ears went down, but he nodded and darted off to the stairs, silent feet padding on the tile as he made a half-second detour for his scythe before creeping into the kitchen. There was a window there big enough for him to escape out of; they'd already checked. It was just a few seconds, though, before Caliga called up to Shomti that it was for him, in a wary tone of voice. Or rather, that "she doesn't want to talk with Diospyros, she wants to talk with Shomti." Just from the wording his lover used, Shomti had an idea of who it was. He could have made a very accurate guess, and he would have been quite right.

"What do you want, Neyla?" He'd elected to bring down his scythe, leaving the Clockwerk Heart in its normal resting place hidden under one of the myriad beds of the place. The tigress smiled at him and stood from the chair that she'd been directed to by Caliga.

"Why, Shomti, that's a very nice piece of bladework you have there... now how did you manage that with the Talons..." She reached out her paws, and Shomti drew the weapon back against his chest, effectively disarming himself. He wasn't exactly thinking straight, considering the nature of the person before him.

"Tell me what you want, or get out. In fact, you're going to get out either way." Neyla smiled as if to say "Of course I am... and who'll make me?", and sat gracefully back into the comfortable armchair. Shomti remained standing.

"Please, do ask that wolf Diospyros to leave. I would like to speak with you privately." Shomti glanced at Caliga, who gave him a blink full of meaning that appeared to be nothing more than a blink to Neyla. Shomti sighed and nodded, and Caliga walked calmly into the adjacent room, closing the door a tad louder than was totally necessary. Neyla's face hardened the second she knew he wasn't looking. "Why do you need someone like him, Shomti? You're the kind of guy that can get anything he wants without anybody else. So why the act? Why get him to fall for you? Haven't you got what you want already, the Talons, the Heart... everything?" _Your promise, Neyla. Your promise to yourself. Before you leave you're going to tell him._

"...What do you want here, Neyla? You obviously want something to have come all this way." _That gleam in her eyes... the way she looks at me... Dios—Caliga... can't look at me that way. He can't even look at me..._ Then he flinched and closed his eyes to breath deeply, focusing on the beat of his heart, knowing that somewhere in the suite, under a bed, another Heart was beating to exactly the same rhythm. It was chilling, and it cooled his mind to the sub-zero temperatures which he needed to deal with someone like Neyla.

"Shomti, Shomti... we both want something, several somethings I would guess, and it looks like one of those for each of is to know what the other wants. I'll show you mine if you show me yours, foxie." The fox's lips curled up towards his eyes in a slow snarl.

"If you use that name again, fuck what you came here for, I'm just going to kill you and be done with it." The scary thing on Neyla's side was that she thought he meant it. And on Shomti's side, the scary thing was that he didn't. He couldn't kill her, otherwise he would have. What did it MATTER what she wanted? He didn't need her, didn't even like her. Logically he should have killed her already. But here she was, alive, and scared by his threat he wished wasn't empty.

"...To help you, Shomti, something I should have done after India. Maybe you think you covered it up, maybe not, but you're HURT, hurt badly... and it's... I feel like it's my fault. Doesn't that mean I should fix it, or at least try...?" She paused to close her eyes and catch her breath, which was seeming to get away from her, a tiny tear leaking from one eye as Shomti watched her, apparently unmoved. "It's tearing me up inside, Shomti... It hurts, so much... I... I _understand_..."

"Then, the deal was you tell me what you want, and I tell you what I need him for, right? Listen up, because I don't want to tell you twice. I DON'T, Neyla. You're right. I'm the kind of person that doesn't need anybody, doesn't need anything. I only keep people around if I want them there, if I get something. You want to know what I'm getting? I get him. That's all. I get a pair of arms to hold me, a pair of lips to kiss me, and out of that I get a couple. Want to know why I made him fall for me? I DIDN'T. Other way around, Neyla, and it worked like a charm." Shomti shook his head slowly, glaring Neyla straight in the face. "I don't need him, Neyla. I love him."

"Y... you're lying. You must be. Why would you be lying? What would you gain from telling me this? You'd... you'd..." She stammered, brain working overdrive for an answer that added up, picked up the pieces of her fantasy world. "You're not gay! You kissed me, you kissed Carmelita, we flirted, it's not fair! You're not gay, so you CAN'T love him!"

"I guess I wasn't to begin with, but was I ever really straight? Anyway, after seeing what women do, what's in their hearts, I think I might just have to stick to guys. I thought Carmelita was a one-time thing, I thought she had to be an isolated case, but... It would appear, Neyla, that I was wrong."

"T-then... then... you want me to admit it. You're forcing my hand. That's what you're doing, you're seeing how I REALLY feel about you, you're seeing if falling in love with him will get me to tell you the TRUTH!" She took a deep breath, quivering with anger and... desperation? Well, what else could it be...

"What do you mean, Neyla?" Neyla figured it had to be a trap. Just had to be. After all, if he was just acting, wasn't this exactly what he would do? Wouldn't he deny that it was bait to get her to say it, otherwise she might not? She never stopped to realize that it was also exactly what he'd do to ask what she was talking about.

"I love you, Shomti! Ever since Paris, I have, and I've been trying to get you to love me and it just HAS to have worked! I've gotten EVERYTHING I've wanted, I've never come up short before, and now some FOX comes in and... and... he gives me something I've never had before, a heart, and all at once he disappears and even when I pull out all the stops I CAN'T GET HIM BACK!! Do you get it now, do you finally understand? I held you where I did out of misplaced mercy and love, I lowered my guard because I thought yours was down too, and I watched YOU instead of everything else in my plan coming crashing down around my ears because you're worth more than all that. You're more than immortality, you're better than just that, Shomti." Neyla took a shaky breath and leaned forward into her hands. "You're Shomti... you're that fox with a brain better than mine, you're the Shomti that can solve a Rubik's Cube in half the time I can, you're the Shomti that beat me at chess and likes Chinese food and slept in the living room pretending to watch infomercials! Don't you see? Nobody is LIKE you, nobody is as amazing as you, and I love you... I love you so much that my heart is ready to leap out of my chest now that I've told you, Shomti, and I don't know what to do..."

"Your heart wants to leap out of your chest? Neyla, thanks to you, mine IS out of my chest. You don't know what to do? Try putting yourself in my shoes right now, between two people that seem to love you dearly, and no matter what you do you're gonna step on SOMEONE'S toes. But as for love, I can't say I love you any more than you love me. I can't even say I love you, or that I don't. I have no idea. But I DO know that I love C—Diospyros. I love Diospyros more than life itself, and he makes it _go away_, Neyla, it's like the pain isn't there when I'm with him, when I'm in his arms. I'm not creeping towards the edge of insanity when he whispers in my ear that it'll be fine, I don't have to be on my toes with him all the time just in case he's not really in love with me and is just using me, I'm not playing mind games in our conversations, and I didn't think about the icewater in the veins of my hand when I gave him my virginity and he gave me his. Don't you GET it yet? I love him because I can tell him things, and because he listens. Because I need to be held, and he'll do just that. Because I don't WANT to be the shoulder someone cries on, I want to be the one CRYING, Neyla, because I have so much to cry about and you've just got a SPLINTER compared to me, okay?! And he gives me that shoulder, he lets me cry my eyes out, and maybe he can't understand why, maybe he can, but he cares enough to set aside his own problems for long enough that I have something stable, someone who's there no matter what. That's it, okay? And you can't do that. It's always going to be your past, your problems, your angst, and there'll never be any time for cuddling, never any time for a romantic moment by the fireside, never any time but working through your _horrible_, _horrible_ past minute by minute, and your _enormous_ problems in life. I need more than your angst, Neyla, alright? You think you love me, but you don't care about what I've gone through at all. That isn't love." Shomti said, his anger more and more evident through the whole of his monologue. Neyla, while listening, shrank back, and even though she might normally analyze herself to see if he was telling the truth, she couldn't bring herself to this time._ It's not true... it can't be. I love him. I never felt anything like this for anyone. It HAS to be love._ Then, _This isn't fair. He was supposed to say I love you too. That's how it's supposed to go, I love you, I love you too. You can't love someone if they don't love you back... can you?_ She sighed and hit her head on the back of the armchair in frustration.

"...Heading south from Canada, right now, is a blimp, a very big blimp. It belongs to the last member of the Klaww Gang aside from myself. He's got all the Clockwerk parts that he needs already aboard except the Heart. If you want to end your pain, go, kill him, kill Clockwerk, and be done with it. He's going to fly over Paris, but he's got to refuel in Maine first. Don't ever say from now on that I never helped you, Shomti." She stood up, tears running down her face and her heart aching as she looked at the apparently heartless fox and walked to the door, pausing with it open and her body half outside. "Look who's the sociopath now, Shomti." And she was gone.

Pain without relief is a poison that slowly numbs the heart and mind, taking someone like Shomti and making them into something like Shomti, and kills the same way submerging someone inch by inch in liquid nitrogen kills. Love without return, on the other hand, is another poison entirely, that slowly brings back all the feelings one has lost, and turns something like Neyla into someone like Neyla, and kills the same way submerging someone inch by inch in molten gold kills. Both, like all the most potent poisons, end in death or disfigurement. No exceptions.

Soo, yeah, it's pretty neat, I think. The next one is going to be fun. I hope you all like it! I'm putting them all up on the blimp. Neyla, Arpeggio, Shomti, Caliga, the Cooper Gang, and even CARMELITA! Yep, they're all gonna make an appearance on the blimp, but I don't know if Carm's going to show up in the next chapter. People reading this critically may notice that I don't include Murray much. You are correct to assume that. He is difficult to include, because his thoughts and actions are extremely shallow and emotionally dynamic, and this is a character type that would stick out like a sore thumb in my story. It would make him appear important, because he is different. But he is not. He is Murray and only tangential to the plot, so to avoid the thought that he is a main character, I avoid including him in general.


	17. Like Clockwork

I'm rather fond of this chapter; don't worry, everyone, the next one is on its way, and it WILL be the last! Probably... well, I don't know. I might decide to stick on an epilogue, or I might add in some interaction between the characters after the fact, show how screwed up everyone is... and if you ask nicely, Shomti might rape Sly.

Like Clockwork

It was four days later, and Shomti and Caliga were on their way out of Colombia. A bit of hacking into the internet to locate Arpeggio's blimp and confirm what Neyla had told Shomti resulted in giving the two what they needed to formulate a plan. Of course they didn't need to hurry; the tracking device Interpol'd set on Arpeggio's blimp told them they didn't have to be in Maine to catch it for another five or six days. It was rather slow-going at the moment. So, Shomti and Caliga spent the days at the hotel the way they had planned to before Neyla arrived: cuddling, kissing, and... well, other things. The environment was right, the time was right, and nobody would interrupt them. We rejoin the two in the airport, nuzzling and sharing a couple of kisses, ignoring the glances thrown at the two of them by several groups there.

"Faggots!" They didn't, however, ignore the insults thrown in the direction of the couple. Shomti straightened up, eyes alight and hands on his scythe, and Caliga slid his olivewood cane into his pack smoothly before pulling out a kingwood one. Shomti knew what that meant, as the small group of various dog breeds and a coatimundi walked over. One pulled out a knife, and Caliga flicked the cane almost imperceptibly towards a security guard, who happened to turn around and see the knife. A shout arose from the guard, distracting the group long enough for Shomti to lunge forward with his scythe and crush the ribcage of one dog with the handle before jabbing the butt end into another's jaw. He looked over at how Caliga was handling his opponents, and it seemed he had knocked the legs out from under one who landed on his head and was knocked unconscious, while one other was trapped behind him and struggling to get up, and the last had run off.

"Sorry about that, boys. You go get on your plane; I do recommend you don't draw attention to yourselves, though." Melanoxylon tapped him on the shoulder as he cuffed the only one capable of running.

"We actually haven't got a plane. See, I need to get to Maine... how soon can I get there? Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. Melanoxylon. And this is Shomti." The guard stood, looked them over, and nodded slowly, a bit of a frown creasing his face as he thought.

"Yeah, figured you might be. Not the least conspicuous of couples. Well, there's a plane leaving in twenty minutes up to Philadelphia from gate ten, and I can get you tickets to Maine from there." Melanoxylon smiled and patted him on the shoulder, paw slipping into his coin purse and drawing out about fifty coins, depositing them in the guard's pocket.

"Thanks for your trouble. Why don't you go get that set up, then? Oh, and, we don't want to have to go through security, soo just call us in on your radio and let them know we're coming." The guard nodded and walked off, cuffed dog in tow as he pulled out his walkie talkie. Caliga grinned and pecked Shomti on the forehead. There were more glances now, sure, but no shouts or threats. The two made their way to the gate, waving at security with a grin as they walked by, and sat down. Caliga first, then Shomti curled up in his lap, head on his chest. It was a rather heartwarming, if slightly creepy, sight to see. A fox, gripping his scythe in a scarred hand, blissful smile on his face as he rested his head on the muscular chest of an obviously much older wolf, who softly petted him, looking down at the fox with eyes that could just as easily have been ivory. They were, from an objective view, an odd couple... but a charming one.

They boarded the plane without a hassle from the lady collecting tickets—it was apparent she'd been told to expect them and she simply gave them the numbers of their seats. They were, of course, adjacent. A short layover in Philadelphia, long enough to grab a snack and enjoy the lack of glares when they hugged, or cuddled, or kissed. Then they flew up to Maine and instantly had a tiny run-in with authorities when they got off the plane, Shomti's scythe still in view. They'd been "informed" by the Philadelphia airport that one of the passengers had a weapon on board, and it took a bit of persuasion by the couple to get to a hotel without handcuffs.

"Yeah? Look me in the eyes and tell me I wouldn't. Touch that radio, and you die. Got it?" Shomti grinned evilly, glaring into the bear's eyes. He was a spectacled bear, and Shomti was reminded of Sly every time he saw those eyes with their little mask.

"You... would, wouldn't you?" The fox nodded with a smug look, sliding the scythe just a tiny bit, enough to slice a hair's depth into the guard's neck. "Ouch!"

"Don't flinch. If you move, I might hit an artery."

"You can go, you can go!" Shomti nodded, a grin on his face as he moved the scythe to the other side of the bear's neck. "And I won't call it in!" A tiny slice. "I... we won't follow you!" Who would? Just leave people like him alone until you had the manpower to take him down... and the policeman had the feeling that the only people who could take him down weren't going to be available in time to prevent serious damage. Shomti had the look of a professional, if you could compare criminals to businessmen.

"Good boy. You know, you're not very lucky... You remind me of someone I know." The fox leaned in close, placing the point of his scythe on one side of the rather hefty bear's stomach. "I hate him." A tearing cut across the man's gut, and it was pretty apparent with a glance down as he fell screaming in pain that Shomti'd done what he wanted. Just the fat reserves. "He's a bit skinnier. That's cheaper than a liposuction. Thank me later." Shomti turned toward Caliga, who was grinding the head of his serpent cane into a security guard's throat, and motioned for the door. They had, of course, been pulled into a room for a stern talking to. "I'm done when you are."

"Then I must be done." Everyone in the room was alive, a product of the two's good mood and no more, as they walked out and Shomti wiped a bit of blood off his shirt. It wasn't his. The hotel they picked out was nice. And as was to be expected from their encounter with the policemen, nobody knew who they were. Caliga used the name Diospyros for the rooms, booked for about two weeks even though they'd likely be gone in a day. There weren't any major preparations to be made, so Shomti just made sure the Heart was safe and, that night, tugged Caliga onto him. His hand and Heart were out of sight and out of mind that night, until exhausted the couple fell asleep. The nightmares had gotten steadily worse, and tonight it was so unbearable that—as he had while with Neyla—he woke up in the middle of the night.

"You're awake, foxie..." Caliga's empty white eyes were staring into him. Shomti lowered his ears with a nod.

"Can... you do that... thing? Give me the Sight for a bit...?" The wolf nodded, and gently touched his fingertips to Shomti's eyelids. When the fox's eyes opened, Caliga's eyes weren't quite so unsettling because they weren't processed information, they were just there. They were a concept instead of a concrete, just like nakedness could be overlooked easily in the Sight. "Thanks... I... couldn't sleep. Can't."

"Wanna talk about it...?"

"You know what it is." Caliga nodded, the movement seeming somehow... heavy.

"Shomti... there's something you need to know about the Clockwerk Heart."

"I don't suppose saying I don't want to hear it would help this time...?"

"No." He paused, then sighed and looked at Shomti. "Well... yes, it would keep me from telling you. I could never do something you asked me not to do. But you should hear it."

"...Okay..."

"The Clockwerk Heart... is a backup. I did some research on Clockwerk; he was an incredibly brilliant person, innovating in fields that wouldn't be discovered for literally millennia. He built his body during the rule of the Egyptian empire, it seems. And, like the Egyptians... he believed the seat of the mind, soul, and emotions was... the heart." Caliga paused to let the impact of those words sink in. "They saw the brain as stuffing for the head. Clockwerk's brain is essentially no more than a series of circuits; the copy of him, what makes Clockwerk the same person over centuries, the consciousness... is stored in his Heart. And he was apparently versed in psychics, because... Shomti, that consciousness has been duplicated into your hand. A sort of copy-paste to preserve him no matter what happens to the body. He thought ahead, realized his body was nothing but metal and could be destroyed, and saw the key to immortality was to replicate his consciousness. His mind in you is dormant but fighting for control, and thanks to several things it has to really fight hard. First, his original body is almost reassembled, meaning that a back-up would need to remain dormant until the original was destroyed, since he can only be in one place at a time. Second, you're a brilliant little fox, so intelligent that Clockwerk seems to have found his match. And third, Rajan wasn't as accurate as Clockwerk wanted the transferral to be. If you'd been hit square on, it would have been the end then and there. But it's just your HAND that was hit, and he has to work his way up to your heart. So he's been working and working and working and hasn't got very far, even through all the nightmares and pain and throbbing. I want you to know one thing... if we go, and we kill Clockwerk, destroy his body and his Heart, then the mind in your hand will assert dominance and you're going to have to fight him for the right to your mind. If you win, you keep everything you have right now, and the pain and nightmares will be gone forever. If you lose... he gets your body, and with someone like you I don't know if he'll be stopped in my lifetime. Your life would become just like your nightmares. Is this a risk you want to take?"

"...Yes. It's worth it. It isn't even a risk. I have to win. What has he got on the line? Life? And what have I got...? An eternity of suffering. My lover's life. The world. I'll win. There isn't a question about it." He leaned forward and kissed Caliga's neck. "Thanks for telling me. You're right, I needed to know. But, since we're both up..."

"Nnn... Shomti, I'm tired from the first time..."

"So am I. That's okay, though, because this ought to wake you up plenty." He nipped gently at Caliga's throat, teeth catching the wolf's flesh just hard enough to hurt a bit.

"Mrrraah! Hey... stop that..."

"Mrrrr... make me, lover..."

"I think I just might..." And much fun ensued.

The next morning the somewhat sore couple stumbled out of bed, showered together, and went down to get a bit of breakfast in the hotel restaurant. It was something of a scene that developed when Caliga fed his foxie rather than letting Shomti eat without help, since the somewhat small town they knew Arpeggio was going to refuel—it was where they got the hotel—was primarily conservative and did not take well to the couple. If not for Shomti's scythe, they might well have tried something.

Shomti had the heart in his pocket, and it started thumping madly when the blimp started its descent to earth. Not a lot of time; it was just filling up on diesel, nobody got off and nobody was supposed to get on. Shomti and Caliga, however, didn't care. The temporary tether ropes were a perfect place for Shomti to show off that he could Rail Walk—that was one thing that Sly couldn't take back—while Caliga climbed up in a rather more conventional and frankly pragmatic manner, similar to the way the Army did its rope crossings. He lay down along the length of the rope, one leg hanging down below him and the other with his ankle hooked behind him over the rope, pulling his way with strong arms up the tether. Shomti was waiting for him, along with an avian corpse, at the top.

"Yeah, I know, I'm not so great with balance. It's all I can do to see the rope." Shomti nodded, kissing his lover on the cheek and looking around.

"Could you scan the area, love? I've got the feeling that Sly and the Gang are gonna be here. I don't want to have to deal with him." It was apparent that he was talking primarily about Sly. He was the backstabber; the other two were just siding with him because of their nature. As Shomti reflected on their relations, he chuckled darkly, some distant memory coming to light... "Stalker... I like it."

"What, love?" Shomti glanced at Caliga, and grinned as he felt a couple more memories unlocking.

"Just remembering something I didn't think I could reach... come on, let's go find a decent safehouse before the Cooper Gang takes it." Caliga nodded, knowing they were coming and figuring Shomti had guessed as much. The fox cast his eyes over the blimp, and pointed at what appeared to be a small building. "That looks good." He focused his mind on it, and Caliga Saw a light shining up from the building he meant. No mistaking where they were heading, then.

"That's a new trick." The wolf said, rather impressed with the fox's ability to concentrate on an exact location from such a distance. Most people had trouble with distance. Shomti shrugged, giving his lover a little peck on the cheek and starting off towards the safehouse. The blimp was a constant falling hazard; often he had to Rail Walk onwards and Caliga was again forced to do his army crawl across the rope. And in a couple of places, a fall would land you in a propeller whirring at what appeared to be hundreds of miles per hour. Shomti wasn't certain exactly when the blimp had taken off... but it wasn't soon enough to keep the Cooper gang off it. He saw in the distance Sly and Murray; Bentley was toddling along behind them, he assumed. Caliga and Shomti, however, reached their destination first and quickly, silently, slew the guards inside. They sat down, turned off the lights, and waited in the dark. It wasn't long before Sly and his Gang showed up, opened the door, and slipped inside as though they expected it to be empty. Shomti silently moved behind him, in his element here in the pitch black, unseen entirely, and gripped the raccoon's shoulder to pull him flush against the fox's chest and lowered the scythe to his neck.

"Shomti...?" The thief's voice was quiet, near silent, but full of fear. Good. It sent a rush of power through Shomti to have control over him, to be able to do anything he wanted to him, to spare his life or to take it within a second, all on his whim.

"To you, Stalker. Get your gang out of here. Don't let them see me, or you die." His lips were so close to Sly's ear that his warm breath made the near silent threat an almost romantic sound. And he let go, quickly moving back to a safe distance, Caliga ready with his cane to block Sly's if he chose to move.

"Gang, let's... clear out. I don't like the feel of this place." Bentley's hand was literally on the lightswitch. "Don't turn that on!" The turtle looked in the direction of his voice, straining to see Sly while Shomti and Caliga blended back into the shadows, impossible to spot in the inky void. "Our eyes are already, uh, adjusted to the dark. It's gonna, hurt." He finished, rather lamely. Bentley knew something was up, but ever-clueless Murray was just that... clueless.

"...Alright, Sly." Sly breathed out in relief, only to feel the haft of Shomti's scythe on his shoulder again, blade inches from his throat.

"Find a reason to stay behind a little while. I wanna chat."

"Hey, guys, look... I'm... gonna stay here, check it for loot. You go on ahead and scout for a better place. I'm sure there's one somewhere." The other two left, and Shomti wrenched Sly's head to face the light just as Caliga clicked it on.

"Are you scared...?" Stalker whispered into Sly's ear. Diospyros held a cane up, and Sly swore he heard it hiss, it was such a lifelike representation of a snake.

"...Yes, Stalker. I am." A hissing chuckle, and Shomti pushed Sly away, moving quickly back to about five or six feet. The way he moved, it seemed he glided on his paws without having to step.

"Set your cane down. I don't want it, but you can't have it for now." When Sly did as he said, Shomti let his smile stretch and he motioned to a chair. "Have a seat. We're gonna talk a little while. About why we're here, about why you're here, and about what we're EACH going to accomplish. You, I'm sure, want to get the Clockwerk parts back, maybe throw them in the ocean... keep them away from anyone ever using them. I can't let you do that."

"What do you MEAN?! Have you lost your mind? Shomti—"

"Stalker. You don't have the right to use my name, after what you did. I'm going to tell you what I mean. You're going to run all your little jobs like you're going to get the Clockwerk frame away from Arpeggio. Don't tell Bentley I'm here, don't tell Murray I'm here. We'll avoid getting seen by your whole Gang from now on. I'm very good at disappearing." Caliga clicked the light off, and Sly immediately lunged for his cane. As soon as it was in his grip, he felt that cold blade on his neck once more. "And I'm very, very good in the dark. Thanks for the eye trick." Sly swallowed nervously. The lights clicked back on, and he blinked repeatedly before Stalker released him, motioning again to the chair. "Have a seat. Now... you just have to keep one thing in mind. If you get the Clockwerk frame out of Arpeggio's hands, which I doubt will happen, then just go out with your Gang. Leave it unguarded for a little while. I have something I need to do with it. When I'm done, the Parts will be destroyed, no matter what happens. You come back, you'll see me sitting on the pile of rubble without a shirt on. If I'm not there, when you find me, kill me. If I have a scar on my chest or my eyes are red, kill me. If Diospyros is dead... kill me. Now, if you can't get the frame from Arpeggio... I'm going to have a bit more of a job. I have to get to it, get past Neyla and Arpeggio, probably kill one or both of them, destroy Clockwerk's body—there's a weak point I know and can utilize—and then I can do what I was going to in the first place. If I don't come find you, come find me. If I have a scar on my chest, red eyes, or Diospyros is dead, kill me. Got that?"

"...If I asked why you have to do all this, you wouldn't tell me, would you?"

"I would. The reason is you. If I didn't help you, I wouldn't have to be doing any of this. If I wasn't scarred in India, this would never have to happen. So in essence, I have to do all this to eliminate the consequences of caring about my friend. All this trouble to have saved you a little. Next time, you can bet I won't." Stalker snarled and raised his scythe at his former friend. "Especially not with the way you treated me. So, are we clear?"

"Yes, Stalker."

"Good. Go out and find your Gang and don't tell them anything about us. Here's some loot to make it look like you found some." He haphazardly tossed a wristwatch, a comb, and some coins at Sly. If it weren't for his quick reflexes, he wouldn't have caught them. "One more thing. You mess with me, or my lover, you die. No questions, no exceptions." And he shoved Sly out the door, where he ran for the projected safehouse icon.

Shomti moved over to his lover and gave him a long, passionate kiss.

"Mrrr... you enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"...Yes. I enjoyed it a lot. He betrayed me, and having power over someone like him is such a rush... The great Sly Cooper, master thief, and he has to do anything I ask him to do. Once he could say he was my leader... now I'm in charge." Caliga smiled and hugged his Shomti to his chest.

"Just don't let it make you forget who you are."

"It's alright. I remember." He leaned back into Caliga's chest, and the pain in his hand was again out of his mind as he purred in the wolf's arms. Everything was alright... no Clockwerk, no pain, no Neyla or Sly or Gang... just... the two of them. And as soon as Shomti got rid of Clockwerk... there really would be no pain... no Clockwerk... he would never need to see Sly again... or Neyla... it truly was going to be just him and his lover. "I'm your little foxie..." A slow, content sigh in the arms of his lover, warm and insulated from reality, and Shomti nuzzled into Caliga's chest again. "Nothing can change that..."

A few minutes of cuddling, a kiss, and then the two were back on their metaphorical feet, frowning and trying to think of what to do. It wasn't too long before Shomti decided he needed to go find Arpeggio and Neyla, because where they were would be where the Clockwerk parts were. Caliga scouted them out, noted that Sly was in the same area, but that he was as yet undetected.

"Caliga, love, is there a way to talk between minds?" The wolf paused, then narrowed his blank eyes, focusing hard.

_Translation bit funny. Minds never quite compatible. Spirits get it easy, not me._ Shomti chuckled out loud, the voice he knew as belonging to Caliga sounding unusual without his normal grammar, and shrugged. _Short phrase, single words, those okay. Why?_

"Uh, yeah, that's plenty. I just wanted to see something. Alright, while I go in to check out the frame and try to figure out what they're going to do with it, I want you on the outside checking for problems. One comes up, you tell me with a really short telepathic burst. Is that possible, love?"

_Bananas good. What? Yes. It is._

"...I'm not going to ask."

"It's better that way."

It was just fifty-three seconds before they were out of the safehouse and on their way to where Caliga directed Shomti. As the two ran silently, something not so silent approached the blimp. There was quite a lot of noise, but for the most part it sounded like a helicopter... Which was of course what the source of the noise happened to be. A helicopter, piloted by none other than Carmelita Fox, landed on a high point of the blimp where it was unlikely that anybody but herself could reach it, and she jumped out, landing catlike below and starting to walk. Unfortunately for Shomti and Caliga, she wasn't walking long, because where she'd decided to land was very near Shomti, and the vixen happened to swing her flashlight over his figure.

"Freeze, Coo—wha?" Shomti glanced at Caliga, holding up his hand to stop the wolf from hurting her. "Shomti? Who's he?"

"You two know each other?" Shomti made a face and a gesture with his hand to signify "Sorta" and Caliga nodded understandingly. "I suppose that it's a good guess to say you're Carmelita Fox, then. Your Interpol file said you were the main policewoman after Cooper, at least when I read it."

"You haven't read it recently, then. I've been sacked, and it's Neyla's fault. Well, his and Neyla's." He narrowed her eyes at Shomti. "Again, Shomti, who is he?"

"...His name's Diospyros. Say, Carmelita... you want revenge on Neyla and the Klaww Gang, right? The people who took away your job? Well, what better way to do it than to help me? I'm not even going to do anything illegal, per se. Just destroy what should have been destroyed a long time ago."

"I'm in. Soon as we're done, fox, I have something to settle with you, you got that?" Shomti nodded.

"Hmm... you know, I can offer you something else, too. Sly Cooper's on this blimp. After I do what I need to, he's all yours. And with his capture, you'd get your job back, right? Maybe even a promotion." He paused, looking over at Caliga. "In exchange for letting us two go, of course. You'd be bagging three criminals, and only two would be getting away."

"Neyla and Arpeggio...?"

"Dead, probably. After all their murders, can you say it would be wrong to execute them?" Carmelita sighed, shaking her head to try and clear it, but she finally had to look back up at Shomti, eyes heavy with reluctance to admit the truth that was now plainly presented before her.

"I wish I could, but you're right. The law isn't just black and white... there are gray zones. I'm in one of them right now. So are you." Shomti glanced over at his target. "In a hurry?"

"On recon duty, actually. Working alone is pretty hard, especially when the Gang that kicked you out is after the same prize." There was, admittedly, a touch of the alkaline in his voice, bitter at Sly's decision to throw him out when he was the one that made the biggest sacrifice for the Gang of all. There was a touch of the acidic, too, soured by the fact that he'd now have to let Sly live so he could keep his deal with Carmelita.

"Oh. I see..." She slowly lowered her shock pistol from where it had been pointing at the both of them, and glided closer to Shomti, two soft paws wrapping around his good hand, still clinging to the scythe. _Carmelita's paws are really quite warm. _But this time he'd seen the move coming, and stared into her eyes. He was in control, and while she might not have known it, he did. "Shomti, I'm so sorry... for what's happened to you. Looks like everything has gone wrong..."

"Carmelita, I want you to listen to me when I say this. Somewhere there's someone for everyone. I've found mine." She smiled up into his eyes, but the smile faltered when she saw that his expression wasn't exactly romantic. "His name is Diospyros. You, on the other hand, haven't found yours. So, stop thinking of me the way you do, because I'm not available and I'm not interested. Okay?" Carmelita was stunned, but took her hands off his and stepped back, restraining herself. Whether it was from crying or hitting the fox, he wasn't sure, and neither was she.

"O-okay..." Shomti nodded and without any further words slid back into the shadows, followed by Caliga, and they continued to their destination. Carmelita strained her eyes to look for them, not thinking to use her flashlight on account of her dazed state, then shook herself off and headed in a random direction, stunning the first guard that she came across and—for lack of handcuffs—stuffing him into a small room nearby and squeezing the door shut. Whatever Shomti was going to do, it would probably be soon. He didn't seem like he was just "on recon." The fox's eyes said death; she knew what it looked like on his face, thanks to the ball turned battle, and it was there when she spoke to him. Someone was going to die, and knowing what she did of him it probably wouldn't be Shomti.

Yep, I told you, the next chapter is probably going to be the last. I'm in the middle of writing it even as I put this up. It should be up within the week. Maybe even during June still. That'd be an accomplishment.


	18. Punishment

And with this, my story is completed! Excellence and grandeur! I finished a story! *blinks* Anyway, I'll return to the plot sometime and maybe write a short sequel, but nothing on the same scale as this. And I think I want to rewrite the first third or so sometime.

Punishment

"Splendid! My locator says that the Heart is definitely on this blimp! Now it is a simple matter of finding it and bringing it back." The parrot crooned, making various flamboyant gestures as he spoke to Neyla. She appeared cold and unresponsive, but Arpeggio was so overcome with joy that he didn't notice. He did, however, notice the fox twirling a rather heavy-looking scythe and whistling a slow, eerie tune. "How did you get in, Shomti? No, rather obvious... What do you want?"

"I..." He continued whistling between words, single, misplaced notes floating through the air. "Want... my... life... back." A lopsided grin, and he leaned forward onto his scythe, the only remnant of his whistling a faint haunt of an echo in the large room. "So? Anybody here got it? Have you, Neyla, you traitor? I wonder, are you still planning on killing Arpeggio? Because that's my job now that I'm in this universe. You know, you lost when Sly fought you. In the game. It's the truth: he beat and killed you." The fox chuckled darkly. "And Arpeggio, Neyla killed you and took the Clockwerk frame for herself. She died in it, of course. But it looks to me like everything I know is all wrong, and it's thanks to me."

"Your memory's back." Neyla said, rather fascinated by this new development. "When did it start? Do you remember everything?" Arpeggio, meanwhile, was scooting backwards, away from the fox, very slowly.

"Not just yet. But you know, I'm here to do one thing, and that's destroy Clockwerk, forever. It's the only way to get rid of this scar and this pain, short of suicide, and I don't know if Clockwerk would let me do that. He might, or he might not. Anyway, it isn't an option, because I have someone to live for. Now then, let's start with you, Arpeggio. You want immortality from Clockwerk's body, but you have no idea about the mind. You think you can subdue the mind? You think it's gone? You believe you can control Clockwerk? You're mistaken. Now, let me have the body, I'll destroy it, the rest is my problem."

"P-p-preposterous! I examined the brain! There is no mind left there!" Shomti rolled his eyes and lunged forward, cutting out the forelimbs of the avian's machine with one swipe.

"I'd correct you, but it doesn't matter. You ought to die anyway. Neyla, you want to die too? The fastest way is to help him." He'd caught motion in the corner of his eye, probably a dropping whip, and turned his head entirely to make sure she wasn't about to strike him. She had, actually, gotten out and prepared her whip, but as she cracked it, it was apparent Shomti wasn't her target. Arpeggio squawked loudly as the whip hit one of the bars in his giant bird-cage contraption, and disappeared into spacetime. "Hmph. I figured YOU knew how to do that, Neyla, but the fact that he can sort of throws a wrench in the plan." _The universe he's in. The one he went to. Take me there. Take me there now._ Rather than releasing his grip on the universe while pulling in the wrong direction, then slingshotting to where he wanted to go, he just used his whole mind and body to pull against the universe's fabric, and it gave before he did. A tearing sound accompanied his departure as opposed to the pop of Arpeggio's action, but it got him where he wanted to go. A large, empty field, mist rising from the ground and occasionally catching fire, beautiful fireballs that, when Shomti was grazed by one, seemed to be cold rather than hot.

"Hah! The physics here will be your downfall. I've studied them and developed a method of using them to my advantage. You, on the other hand, have no idea!" Shomti shrugged, raising his arm and letting it drop, then swinging his scythe at a nearby blade of grass. It sliced without disturbing the bottom half; the only thing new was the undulating whistle that accompanied his swing as the edge parted the air.

"Looks good to me. Let's go, Arpeggio." The parrot chuckled and stepped out of his machine, rolling up one sleeve to reveal a small bracelet device with several buttons. _That's my target, then. Remove the arm, remove the threat._ Shomti swung his blade in a fast and long arc—inertia was less prominent in this universe, according to his assessment, so large moves were necessary to get the same force, but also easier to make due to the ease of moving—straight down. Arpeggio pressed a blue button and jumped out of the way, but of course Shomti changed the direction of his scythe mid-swing and the blade headed straight for his wrist. Bullseye, of course.

Until Shomti heard a metallic ringing noise and the blade ricocheted off some invisible field. Nearby, a wisp of gas ignited and frosted over the back of Shomti's jacket.

"Electromagnetism is the main thing here, my dear boy. Not so much inertia or gravity; and the unique nature of this universe allows me to generate a field that, in this universe, might as well be solid!"

"Thanks for the tip. We gonna fight?" _Air. Electromagnetism is repelling the electron shell of atoms. There's either a breathing hole, or I can win by getting him breathing so hard he has to let it down._ Arpeggio twisted the bracelet a bit, the blue button he'd hit before still glowing as he hit a red one and raised his wrist at Shomti.

"Of course, that would be splendid." A red mist sprayed out of the nozzle Shomti hadn't noticed, and he instinctively moved out of the way as it passed through the invisible barrier—turning green in the process and alerting the fox to its size—and headed straight for him. When he moved, it moved to follow him, so when he noticed it was slowly lowering closer to the ground—_it's heavier than the air here—_he jumped over it and watched it slowly melt into the grass, which iced over and started to glow. "It's my own creation. I spray the nuclei of certain chemicals through my barrier, they pick up electrons, and when they impact something other than air they steal the heat energy of it to create light. It would be lethal on such a warm body as you if you were to breathe it in." Shomti nodded, and watched as Arpeggio twisted the bracelet again. Before he could do anything at the new location, the fox lunged forward and grabbed with his mind at Arpeggio. The parrot reacted like he was kicked in the beak, and Shomti was forced to try and dominate his mind without being able to distract him using violence.

Where had he learned that, again? He didn't remember it from his "past life", that was for sure. He was fairly certain Caliga hadn't taught him it—in fact, he was sure Caliga hadn't taught him that—so where had it come from? _I'll figure it out later._ Then he devoted that part of his mind to forcing himself into Arpeggio's body. The violence of the motion was so great that Shomti's hand twitched as he snarled with closed eyes at the parrot, and then he was in. Just long enough to reach over to the bracelet... twist... _press the button. DO IT!!_ And slowly, his arm moved across his body, resting one finger on the glowing blue button as Arpeggio pulled as hard as he could to get control back. Then the shield was gone and Shomti was back in his own body, and it took a fraction of a second to swing his scythe while Arpeggio was still stunned. _Schclick._

"You picked the universe, Arpeggio. Increased receptivity to psychic action." The bracelet dropped to the ground, still around Arpeggio's severed wrist, and Shomti picked it up.

"W-what are you going to do to me...?"

"I wonder... what's this green button do? Could it be a version of the mist that doesn't need your electron shield? It's probably lethal... yes, it is... I just love your facial expression. Death brings out the true person in everyone. They are truly most themselves when they die..." Shomti grinned and twisted the bracelet off Arpeggio's disconnected hand, sticking the nozzle attached to the green button into the bird's mouth. "And I am truly Death. You are truly a coward. How does it FEEL? Tell me, are you afraid to die? This is what you did to all those people you knew would die in the course of your plan. I was in your head, I have your memories. You knew they'd all die... hundreds, thousands even. All your fault. So you could be immortal." He leaned in close to the terrified parrot and smiled horrifically. "Nobody escapes Death." And he pushed the button. A tendril or two of green haze emerged out the side of Arpeggio's beak, but for the most part the accelerated gas forced its way down his throat. His head froze over, a dull light beginning to emit from it, and Shomti saw his chest swell, no doubt as his lungs froze. When he removed the bracelet, his mouth had essentially become a flashlight.

_RRRRIIIP!!_ Shomti appeared before the Clockwerk frame. Neyla was there, sitting on the edge of it.

"What are you going to do, Shomti? You have to destroy it, but to do that you're denying me immortality. Do you care at all?"

"Neyla, let me give you a little taste of something. Let me just tell you what kind of immortality you're talking about. You're talking about having nothing but a mind. A body you can't feel, entirely numb all the time, freezing cold. Clanking, whirring, metallic noises. Never sleeping. Filled with hatred. The inability to feel... even so much as this, a warm hand, is nothing." Shomti put a paw on her shoulder, staring into her eyes with what was a surprisingly emotional expression. "I don't want that for you. Do you?"

"You're right. I don't want that. How do we destroy him?"

"Diospyros, you can come out now." Shomti turned and motioned at the shadows. He moved right over to where his lover emerged and leaned up on tip-toe to give him a kiss. He wasn't THAT much taller, but it was a nice feeling. For a few seconds, the fox smiled blissfully with his head on the wolf's chest, then he turned toward Clockwerk. "You know where it is?"

"Of course. On your signal." Shomti nodded and pulled out the Clockwerk heart, setting it on the ground in front of him before he sat down crosslegged. Neyla knelt across from him, but he closed his eyes to her inquisitive glance.

"Neyla, get away. You don't want to get caught up in this sort of thing, trust me on that." She hesitated, then nodded and stepped back several feet to where Diospyros was working on opening Clockwerk's beak. She stuck her hand in next to his and helped to pry it open; it was slow going, but it did eventually raise.

"Neyla, was it? I'll hold it up. There's a chip in there you need to grab for me; it's about four inches by five, and... well, you'll know it when you see it." She nodded and started rummaging around inside the head, Diospyros straining to hold the jaws open and managing to do so long enough for Neyla to unplug the chip. She instantly pulled out her hands, and Caliga let the jaw fall back down. "That's it. Alright, Shomti, we have it." Shomti breathed in deep, opened his eyes, then nodded at Caliga and closed them again. The wolf threw the chip onto the ground and ground it under his heel with a sickening crunch.

"_I understand... well, shall we begin, Shomti? Our stake is life."_ The voice was sickeningly metallic, but somehow familiar... "_Yes, it's me... I'm the one that gave you all those hints, had conversations with you... when it seemed I would not need your body, I relaxed my hold. I should have known better than to do that."_

"_How did you warn me about the lightning? I hadn't been scarred yet."_

"_The same way you couldn't reach Arpeggio but dominated his mind anyway. A trick you stole, I might add, from me... you're accessing memories that I thought I had sealed away from you. A combination, I think, of my cessation of dominance over you, and of your increasingly emergent psychic abilities."_

"_What memories...? You locked away my past?"_

"_I merely increased the longevity of your amnesia, to the point that I had hoped it would be indefinite. And also I hid away my own mind and memories, some of which you have accessed. Otherwise you would never have beaten Arpeggio. Enough talk, fox... it's time to fight."_

_An empty plain. No grass. No sun. No wind. No light, even though seeing was easy. Just like when Caliga had given Shomti the Sight, the area appeared surprisingly natural. Shomti stood, and looked around, lit smoke rising off his body as he turned to find someone standing behind him._

"_You are surprised at my form."_

"_You might say that."_

"_Why do you think I hated the Coopers so much? Simple rivalry...? No, the bloodline was my own, I was the eldest son, and yet the inheritance went to Slytenkhamen. There is no hatred beyond that of a bereft heir." Before Shomti stood what appeared very much to be Sly Cooper, but taller, more muscular, and with a single small gold cane, glinting in its semicircular grandeur._

"_C for Cooper, or C for Clockwerk... I assume that's the play you were aiming for."_

"_Yes. It's coincidence that in English the letters are the same. In Egyptian they are as well."_

"_You remind me of someone who used to be my friend. It's too bad, really, because that just makes me want to kill you all the more."_

"_Your heart, Shomti, may be even colder than my own. Don't you feel any pity for Sly? Can you not see it from his side?" Shomti snarled and pulled a scythe out of nowhere. It wasn't quite like his own, the haft being a good deal longer—around sixty inches or five feet—and more curved, and with a longer blade. On the back of the blade, a wicked spike, double-edged and coming to a fine point._

"_No." He launched himself at Clockwerk, blade locking with the cane for an instant before he twisted and struck at the raccoon's temple with the butt of the scythe. He stumbled just long enough for Shomti to whip his scythe around and embed the spike in Clockwerk's chest, over his heart. The raccoon coughed, then kicked the haft of Shomti's scythe to get it out of him and spun to strike with his cane at his head. The strike made hard contact despite his efforts to evade it, and now it was Shomti's turn to stumble as everything seemed to waver for just a second. The attack on his mind followed within an instant, but he repelled it with everything he had and distracted Clockwerk by swinging his scythe low and knocking the raccoon's legs from under him. He landed flat on his back, head smashing the ground, and Shomti pressed the offensive. Images of pain, of loss, of being second to someone above them, a Cooper, were forced through his head directly into Clockwerk's. "I am stronger than you can ever imagine, Clockwerk."_

"_NO!" A rush of agony flooded through Shomti's head, dropping him to his knees as he felt something akin to his heart being ripped in two. A lover isolated... a child that hated them... her soft lips never to be felt again... Shomti gritted his teeth and stood up through the wash of pain._

"_My love is Caliga, and no matter what happens he will NEVER leave me!" Clockwerk stumbled from where he'd stood, and Shomti thrust the butt of his scythe into the raccoon's solarplexus, knocking the wind fully out of him. One of his paws shot forward and gripped the raccoon's throat, the other slid his scythe blade into Clockwerk's chest._

_Hatred. Nobody understood them. Their friends despised them. Their family rejected them. Always on the outside, sometimes looking in, sometimes scorning those who made them who they were. Envious and spiteful both. Betrayed by those they cared about. Misunderstood no matter where they went. All caused by one person._

"_C-cooper..." Clockwerk's eyes glazed over as Shomti shattered his defenses and slid into his memories. Most he'd seen. But the early ones were new, and he collected them, removed them, sealed them away. Then he amplified all the pain and hatred and cold burning in the recent memories of killing, feeling something akin to Clockwerk's anger growing inside himself._

"_I swore I'd make you pay a hundredfold and you'd never be released in my lifetime. Now the pain you caused me is going to return, and I'm never going to let you go. You will exist in my mind and in my hand and I will never, ever let you leave. The day I die I carry you into the void with me, Clockwerk, and it's all your fault. The pain in my hand is gone, because now it truly is my hand and does not belong to you. Instead of letting your mind grind mine slowly to dust, you are going to be destroyed by me. I have control of my mind and body, and of your mind as well. My dreams are my own again, Clockwerk. Go back to Hell." These final words were spat like fire into the raccoon's mind, and he slumped to the ground when Shomti released him, eyes twitching back and forth. Shomti closed his eyes, breathed deep, and let the blade of his scythe channel the ancient mind into his own and lock it away, then he banished the entire realm around him._

"He's done." Shomti looked down at his hand. The spikes on his heart scar were shrinking and retreating into the main body of the heart, and he grinned. "I'm back, love." Caliga looked up from what he'd been doing, flipping a bit of rusted metal between his fingers, and Neyla also looked up... from where she'd been tied to the corroded pile of rubble that used to be Clockwerk. "Sorry, Neyla, I still mean Diospyros whenever I say that. Diospyros, what's up with the, uh, bondage?"

"She fought me. I don't know if she was going to kill me or not, but I wasn't taking any chances. When I won, I tied her up so she couldn't do it again. I figured you would have killed her if you wanted her dead, love." Shomti nodded and stood up, reaching for his scythe before realizing that the blade had corroded entirely away. "Ah... yeah. About that. I know someone who can make you a really nice one."

"Nah... it's fine. I don't want to be Death anymore. Just an ordinary assassin and fighter." A grin stretched across his face, and he looked back at his hand, holding it up to show Caliga. "Look, lover! It doesn't hurt anymore! I can finally be with you and not have to worry about it... he's still inside, of course, but there's no way for him to escape the tortures I set in for him. He deserves it anyway. So, Neyla. You've got, I'm fairly certain, two options. I can leave you here and Carmelita will arrest you along with the Cooper Gang, or you can swear never to try and hurt my lover again and you can come with us. For a while, at least. As long as you give us our privacy at night, I don't think either of us mind. Right, love?" Caliga shook his head with a smile more directed at Shomti than at Neyla.

"Well, that's hardly a choice. Untie me. I won't hurt or try to hurt your lover." Shomti nodded at Caliga, motioning that he could untie her, and headed for the door. Both Neyla and Caliga were curious about where he was going, but only Neyla asked. "Where are you headed?"

"Well, let's see. Arpeggio's dead for his crimes, Clockwerk is going to suffer eternally, but Sly is going to get away with few consequences. You KNOW he's going to break out of jail even if he's arrested. I'm going to do something he can't just escape, but that he'll live through, for what he did to me. I can't let that go unrectified, after all."

"What are you going to do to him...?" This was Neyla. Caliga, on the other hand, nodded solemnly. The pleasure Shomti'd had in total control over Sly Cooper earlier had told him everything he needed to know about his designated punishment.

Shomti slid out of the shadows and tapped Sly on the shoulder. "Clockwerk's suffering for his crimes as we speak. And he's going to be for as long as I live. When I die, he does. Happy with that?" Bentley and Murray turned around and stared at the fox. Bentley was the first to speak, however.

"Shomti! I thought you had to do with this! Was it you that made us leave the other safehouse?" The vulpine assassin ignored him. Just like Bentley had ignored Sly's traitorous behavior towards Shomti. "Shomti? What did you tell Sly?"

"Yes, I'm happy with that. Thanks, Shomti, for avenging the Cooper name... I.. guess I never thought I'd be saying it, but, I was wrong." Shomti chuckled darkly, yellow eyes glinting as he grabbed Sly's arm and pulled him out.

"You were. Don't mind me, Gang, I'm just borrowing Sly for a little while. You can have him back soon enough." As soon as the door shut, Shomti spun and pinned Sly to a nearby wall, the force of his motion making a very loud noise. "You were wrong, but that doesn't erase what you did. You betrayed me." Shomti gripped the raccoon's throat with one hand, similar to how he'd gripped Clockwerk in their fight. "You refused to rescue me from torture I was enduring for your sake." A hard jab to his solarplexus. "You even threw me out for things I had done that you COMMENDED me for and ENCOURAGED while I was on your good side. You know what?" Shomti leaned in and hissed into Sly's ear. "I don't think you can erase all that. I don't think anything can. But HELL if I'm going to let you get away with this, you got that?" He switched his grip to Sly's upper arm and dug the bones of his fingers into it as he jerked him along. Somewhere, Sly was yelping in pain, but Shomti didn't care. He half-dragged, half-led Sly to their safehouse and opened the door, throwing him in before following and locking the door behind him.

Carmelita found Sly apparently unconscious, his clothes scattered around the room, and his cane snapped, doubtless by Shomti.

"Damn... Shomti, you..." She muttered, kneeling by Sly and noting that his eyes were open, wide open, and his breath came in shallow bursts. "Are you alright, Sly?"

"..."

"Did he hurt you?"

"..."

"Sly... are you alright?"

"No..." He pushed himself to a sitting position, shakily gathered his clothing, and stared numbly at the cane Shomti had broken like a twig over his knee.

"I'm... sorry..."

"You don't get it, Carmelita. Don't try to. Just do what you were going to do."

"...Sly Cooper, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent...." As she continued listing his rights, Sly stood and gathered his clothing, slipping his pants and shirt back on, staring at the ground before moving back to Carmelita and holding out his wrists for the handcuffs. She shook her head. "No cuffs. I haven't got any. Not an officer anymore, remember?" He nodded, not making eye contact, and she sighed, motioning for him to follow her. He did. When she requested to be taken to his Gang's safehouse, he silently led her there and sat outside while she arrested the Cooper Gang and recited their rights to them individually. She located a phone, the entire Gang silently following her, and radioed the police, giving them her location, name, and situation. Scrawled on the back of Sly's shirt was a single word: "TRAITOR."

Shomti reclined in Caliga's arms, looking up at his wolfie. "I love you. You know that, right? What I did to Sly wasn't..."

"It's okay, love. You don't have to tell me. I already know. It's not really the same as when we do it. In fact, it's not the same at all... with us, it's love. With him, it was just punishment." Shomti nodded and relaxed in his lover's embrace. "Long as you don't get me sick, I'm fine with it." The fox burst out laughing, eyes squeezing shut.

"Noo... hehehe... I won't get you sick." In the next room, Neyla turned the page of a small journal.

"_I loved him, I still do, and yet I can bear to be around him as he snuggles into and kisses his male lover, whom he now remembers is as much older than him as I am. I can still feel my heart throb for him, but my stomach doesn't churn when I know it ought to... I suppose I'm just happy for him, even though I can't be happy with him. He's still faster at the Rubik's Cube than I ever will be... and Diospyros can't even solve one at all, despite coaching from Shomti._"

Sly Cooper climbed up the pole and sat at the top, looking down on the prison he'd just escaped from. Bentley and Murray were already out—they'd been set free after a few months on good behavior—but Sly'd had to wait several more months after they were out before they helped him. When they arrived, the thief'd asked them why they took so long.

"That's how long we took to get around to saving Shomti. Murray and I decided you shouldn't get special treatment." It was an obvious dig at his behavior in heading up the Cooper Gang the way he did, taking all the credit and loot, making all the decisions and leaving the brunt of the work for those two. Heavy-lifting or guard mauling? Call in the Murray, you know I'm not good at that. Checking the angles or building a new gadget for me? Bentley, can you handle it, I know you're smarter than I am. Yeah, looking back... Sly was pretty domineering. But it WAS the Cooper Gang...

He just couldn't get over what Shomti'd done to him. He hadn't gone through one day since then that he wasn't reminded of it somehow... nights were the worst. Even in prison, there were noises that he knew were nothing, but that somehow brought him straight back to that night, Shomti's fangs sunk in his throat... Sly jerked and almost fell off the pole. _Am I going insane...? Everywhere I look, inky shadows, like he might slip right out from any one of them and do it again... everywhere I look, figures with scythes and those gleaming yellow eyes... All around me is darkness, nothing but, and yet I see so much MORE..._

"Sly, do you read me?" Sly jerked again, this time slipping off the pole and catching it with one hand as he reached down to the lapel mic Bentley'd outfitted him with.

"...Yeah. I'm heading back. Give me those coordinates again."

Carmelita leaned back, rubbing her temples with the stretched-out fingers of one hand and keeping her eyes closed to try and calm down. "Try to tell me this one more time. I don't think I get it. Sly Cooper has escaped, from solitary confinement, in the most secure prison this side of Europe, and you had no idea until morning, because of a dummy they placed in the bed." She stood up and glared at the security guard in front of her. "That dummy had better be one realistic piece of work, or the entire shift is losing their jobs on account of incompetence. I mean full-on animatronic breathing mechanism, snores, and realistic pose. If I see PILLOWS, forget losing your jobs, you're all arrested, every single one who took a peek in that room." She looked over at a picture she kept on her desk, picking it up and dusting it off. A fox with glinting yellow eyes, holding a scythe and threatening a grocery store owner. It was taken by a security camera, and was one of few images of Shomti. "Get out of here. I'm going to talk to your direct superior in just a moment."

Once he was gone she sank down into her chair, eyes wet as she stared at the picture. "Shomti... you're a criminal... you really are a criminal, to the heart. I guess if you're in one of those gray zones, it's a pretty dark one... yet I guess you are better than Neyla or Arpeggio or any one of those Klaww Gang members... what did happen to Neyla... and Arpeggio? They just disappeared. What did you do with them, Shomti... throw them over? Well, we'll see if they ever turn up." She sighed and set the picture back down, standing to go and speak with the security guard's boss about the whole incident.

Sly shook his head, irritated with himself. "Murray, can you pass me a slice of pizza?"

"Uuh... sorry, Sly, I kinda ate the last one." Sly felt a bit of anger brimming up inside himself, then he breathed out in an explosive sigh of resignation.

"Fine. It's alright. I wasn't hungry anyway." He stared out the window, rain splattering against it and running down, the noise making a perfect backdrop for his thoughts as he sat, a slice of pepperoni pizza that he didn't remember he had sitting on a plate next to him untouched. How a person could change... it was two years today, wasn't it? Yeah... two years today since Shomti'd arrived that night in Cairo. He'd be seventeen now, wouldn't he...? To think, when it happened, Shomti was sixteen. Just sixteen and he could do whatever he wanted with Sly and there wasn't a damned thing the thief could do about it but scream and know nobody would come to help. He remade his cane after getting out of prison a while ago, using the same metal head and buttcap, but a new shaft for where Shomti'd broken it over his knee before he had...

"Sly, are you alright?"

"...No. I'm not." Sly pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, looking up into the sky where lightning flashed across the clouds, one bolt acting for a split second as a scythe in the hands of a momentarily illuminated grim reaper. His tormentor even in absence, Shomti, glared down at him for a single moment in time, and the raccoon thief shivered. "I am definitely not alright, Bent."

"...I suppose I guessed as much." Bentley turned back to his computer and tapped away while Murray sat on a nearby couch and played a video game in silence. The only noises were the rain, the over-dramatized shouts of pain from the video game whenever Murray beat down a bad guy, and Bentley's keyboard tapping.

Caliga hit the send button on his email client, and it was mere seconds before he received a secure reply from his contact. He turned around to face Neyla and Shomti both, the former scribbling in her journal and the latter sliding a whetstone over the edge of one of his many weapons. This one was an interesting design; he'd made it himself, having acquired a full knife-making shop and ordering a damascus steel blank. It was a simple blade shape, a crescent about a third of a full circle, and a fairly basic handle pattern, two cutouts in the blank wrapped with multiple layers of epoxy-soaked hemp, a material that mimicked fiberglass. It was too heavy for an ordinary person to use, yes, but Shomti had kept his unnatural strength from Clockwerk's interference, and even though an ordinary person would have trouble using it whether they had the strength to wield it or not Shomti had no problem whipping it around. He could remove limbs with ease, and the honed edge could be run entirely along a body. This rendered it an even more efficient slicer than the fabled katana, which only had about six or seven inches to work with whereas this had half a dozen times that distance in its curve.

"I think I have something for you to try that blade out on as soon as you're done sharpening it. And we'll need you, too, Neyla." Neyla was the new Gang's mole. She could get in anywhere in the first place, and plus Caliga's connections was able to procure as many new ID cards and passports as she needed. She was the best con artist in the world, and just like Melanoxylon was known around the world, this purple nameless tiger was known. In fact, their Gang was effective because as soon as they showed up in an area, anybody who would have gone after their prize quickly got out. All three had reputations above and beyond those the Cooper Gang had at its height. Every drug dealer in every major city knew Melanoxylon and his group, knew Shomti, knew that tigress. And, funnily enough, none of them seemed to be matched to anyone known still to be alive. No records for any of them, because Caliga was thought dead, Shomti was from another universe, and Neyla declared dead by Interpol. None other than Carmelita Fox did that, actually. And who but her would be after this new Gang since the fall from grace of the Coopers? Nobody ever caught them, of course, and Carmelita knew enough not to bring in mercenaries or SWAT teams. She was safe, sure, but the others would without doubt get killed. No, not killed... exterminated. Shomti didn't have mercy.

How ironic, that. Even though the Gang didn't have a formal name, it was just THE Gang to those both inside and outside of it, they did have a symbol, found scratched somewhere into something at every crime scene. Only a few people knew its significance, of course, one of them being Carmelita, another three being the Cooper Gang, and the rest all belonging to the Gang. It was an idealized heart, such as one might find on a Valentine's Day card.

The last sentence was, if you paid attention, stolen from an earlier chapter. I really like this chapter, the way it turned out. The end is pretty definite, but it still leaves an opening for a sequel when I know I'll write one, even if it can be standalone. :3 So, I'm happy with the chapter. Yes, Shomti raped Sly, but again it's never explicitly stated, and I never go into any amount of detail, so no, I don't intend to change the rating on my story.


End file.
